The Stolen King
by silverwrym
Summary: Sequel to The Whipping Boy. The Kingdom of Quantico is at war with its neighboring country when Spencer is captured by King Charles and taken away. It's up to Derek and his most trusted friends to come up with a plan to rescue his husband. Meanwhile, Spencer must figure out how to survive in the harsh world that is known as Georgia. AU - Morgan/Reid Slash.
1. Premonition

**Hi Friends.**

**Welcome back to the Kingdom of Quantico. If you couldn't tell from the summary my favorite character, Reid, is getting into some trouble again. Oh how I do love "damsel in distress" Reid...with few kickass/BAMF moments sprinkled on top. For those of you who wondered where Tobias, Charles, and Raphael were in the first story...well...this was my plan all along. I felt I would need a whole new storyline to tackle that can of worms...and here we are :) **

**For those of you just joining me, I would advise you to read "The Whipping Boy" first so that you understand the background/groundwork that was laid before this story.**

**Reminders:**

**1. This is slash! I love me some Morgan and Reid!**

**2. While I will try to keep the character's personalities as accurate as possible there will be times that people may act OOC.**

**3. I am not going to follow the whole "Revelations" storyline from the show. I am using the characters from that episode in my own way and I may draw inspiration from scenes but this will not be a medieval retelling of that episode.**

**4. I make up the rankings, addresses, titles, etc... of all the characters. I draw my inspiration from years of reading countless stories about Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII. I will not promise or hold myself to historical accuracy since I have made up a land of my own...hence AU.**

**5. A big thank you to Gothina234 suggesting the title to this story!**

**Alrighty, here we go!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>The crisp cool air incited an outbreak of goose bumps all over the boy's exposed forearms as he stepped out onto the ornate balcony. There wasn't a cloud in the sky to block out the shimmering of thousands of stars high above his head. Off in the distance a full moon shined its pale light down on the kingdom that lay sprawled at the foot of the castle. The soft glow played over hundreds of buildings, creating a contrasting patchwork of shadows and light over the city.<em>

_He approached the metal railing and laid his hands against the cold surface. A chill ran through his body as the temperature of the object transferred up his spine. He quickly brought his hands up to wrap them about his body but found them stopped short of their destination. He curiously inspected each of his wrists and found golden manacles attached by a matching chain encasing each one. The distance between the metal links was roughly a foot in length, which sufficiently prevented him from hugging his own body._

_He tried to pull at the chain with all his strength but the metal links held steady. He stopped trying to free himself and with hollow eyes he turned his gaze out to the landscape that was stretched out before him. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, silently longing for whatever was hidden over the horizon._

_It was the pitter-patter of water pellets that roused him out of the aching yearning he had for the unknown. He looked down and saw that there were tear sized droplets moistening his hands and the rail. Mystified as to the source of the rain, he lifted his hand up and rubbed it across his face. When he brought it back into view he was surprised to find that his own eyes were the originators of the liquid._

_A small sob escaped his lips as he felt the overwhelming anguish that had been buried just beneath the surface of his mind burst forth. He dropped to his knees and brought his hands up to his face in an effort to muffle his keening. He wailed his displeasure till his chest ached from the taxing exertion. When he could produce no more tears he tilted his head up and allowed the moon's pale radiance to light the shadows on his face. In a cracked voice that was barely above a whisper he murmured, "Derek, where are you?"_

_Suddenly a sharp tug on his neck pulled him backwards from the edge and down onto the ground. His hand flew to his collar and he felt a leash locked to the ring in the back. Against his will a force started to drag him toward the room behind him. He jerked his body around in desperation and started thrashing back and forth trying to thwart the powerful force at the other end on the chain. His struggles were in vain as inch by inch he was pulled forth into a formidable man's grasp._

"_Let me go," he gritted through clenched teeth as he looked up at the towering figure above him._

_The man let out a loud sardonic laugh at his demand._

_Undeterred by the man's mocking chortle he gathered up all the saliva he could and spat it out right into the other's smug face._

_An enraged snarl tore from the monsterous man's mouth as he wrapped his meaty hands around the boy's neck. "You will never be free," he roared as he squeezed the tender flesh exposed below the metallic collar._

_He started gasping for air as he felt his precious airway become constricted. He clawed and scratched at the man's grizzled flesh in desperation. As the worlds started to darken he pulled the last bit of air into his lungs and let out a tormented howl._

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><p>"Spencer!"<p>

"Spencer, wake up!" Derek's voice cried, piercing the fog that dominated the boy's brain.

His big brown eyes flew open as he gulped in a large amount of air. It took him a moment to realize that the shadow on his face was caused by his husband. "Derek?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alright? You were scaring me."

Spencer inhaled a few more deep breaths in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart, "It was…I was…I guess I was just having a bad dream."

"More like a nightmare," the king said wryly.

The waifish boy winced as he reached for his throat, and nodded slowly, "Yeah…I guess."

"What was it about?" Derek asked softly, seeing how his love was still being effected by the dream.

"I-I was all alone out on a balcony. It was cold and dark. I-I had chains on my wrists…and…I was really upset about something. I remember calling your name out, asking where you were. Then I was pulled backwards by my neck, someone had put another leash on me," Spencer halted his retelling there for a moment, flushing at the memory.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me anymore," his husband said compassionately as he gently caressed his thumb across the boy's reddening cheek.

"No-no…it's alright. I'm alright," he insisted. "I fought against whomever it was that was pulling me back inside. I wasn't strong enough though and before I knew it this large man was standing above me laughing. I told him to let me go but he still laughed. So, I spat in his face."

"That's my boy." Derek praised.

Spencer gave him a weak smile, "It wasn't over though. The guy got angry and told me I would never be free…and then…then he started choking me with his bare hands." The co-king shuddered at the memory, "And then, thankfully, you woke me up…"

The enamored monarch wrapped his love into his welcoming arms and said, "Sounds awful sweetie. But it was just a dream, and you're safe now."

Spencer squeezed his lover back and planted a passionate kiss on his husband's plump lips, "Thanks to you waking me up."

"Well, if that's the thanks I'll get for waking you up I'll be sure to do it more often," Derek said with a flirtatious smile.

"Don't you dare! You know how much I enjoy sleeping in!" the boy said playfully, giving Derek a spirited smack on the cheek.

The king laughed and grabbed his lover's bony wrist before forcing it down onto the bed, "So that's how you want to play this?"

Spencer squirmed a little in his grasp and wriggled his hips in a silent response.

The next thing the couple knew they were laying on the soft silk sheets sweaty and spent after a half hour of erotic exertions.

The king was first to stir from his post-coital daze. He gently fingered the key that was hanging from the chain around his lover's neck before he got up and pushed himself over to the side of the bed. His retreat was met with a small whine from the prone body still sprawled out on the comfortable covers.

Spencer, missing the warmth of Derek's embrace, lifted his head and peered through his beautiful brown curls. "What's the rush? The sun has barely risen."

Derek heaved a heavy sigh and broke his lover's gaze. "You know why…," Derek said reluctantly as he reached down and started pulling on his previously discarded clothes.

Spencer saw his husband pulling on a white jerkin and leather breeches before he stood up to retrieve a set of chainmail that had been laid out the night before. Guilt surged through the boy at the realization that his nightmare had caused him to forget that Derek was leaving today.

For over the past four years the realm to the south, the Kingdom of Georgia, had been expanding its boarders and going to war with its neighboring countries. The king of the realm, Charles, was a deeply fanatical man believing himself to have been ordained by God and meant to rule the world as a whole. He sent out his proclamation to all of the lands that bordered his and declared that he would overtake them in God's name.

Slowly over the years Charles started making good on his promises. He captured and absorbed all the lands to the west of his kingdom and now he was focusing his forces on the north, namely Quantico. After months consulting with the countries smartest advisors Derek and Spencer decided that their only option was to gather their army and defend their kingdom. Derek was to lead the forces while Spencer would run the kingdom in his absence.

"You have to go already?"

The muscular man dropped his chin and pulled the heavy mail over his head, "Already? I should have been gone by now. I was supposed to be out in the courtyard at the crack of dawn. Someone distracted me…"

The lithe young man started to get up in order to get dressed when he was pushed back down onto the bed.

"No, don't get up. Stay in bed and enjoy your last morning sleeping in for a long while," Derek encouraged before he continued getting ready.

"You're crazy. I'm not staying here. I'm going to see you off," Spencer said shrilly.

"No, you're not."

A hurt look crossed Spencer's face, "You don't want me there to say goodbye?"

"No."

"Oh," he said in a quiet voice.

The king, fully dressed and ready to go, made his way over to the bed and sat down next to his best friend. "Look, I could be gone for six months to a year if this doesn't go our way. It kills me that I have to leave you here to watch over the castle and run the country while I'm away. So I don't want the last image I have of you to be one where you're standing in the courtyard a sad look on your face as I lead the army away. I want to remember you like you are now, strong, beautiful, happy, and hopelessly in love with me; not worried, scared, longing for me to turn around and come home."

An understanding smile broke out on Spencer's pink rosebud lips. He reached his arms up and wrapped them around Derek's neck, fingering his lover's collar. "Do you want me to unlock this so it doesn't hamper you in battle?"

Derek pulled back with a jerk, "Of course not! It's going to remind me every day of what I'm fighting for and what I could lose if I do not succeed."

Spencer blushed and grabbed the key hanging from the platinum chain.

Derek grinned at the boy's reaction and used his finger to lift the genius's angular face. As Spencer's wispy eyelashes swooped up to meet the king's brown orbs, Derek rushed down and locked their lips in a fiery kiss.

A minute later the king pulled back and got up from the bed. "I have to go."

He grabbed his sword from where it was hanging on the wall and sheathed it in its scabbard. "Just remember that I love you and that I will come back to you. I promise."

Spencer put on a brave face as he watched his lover walk out of their chambers. When the giant doors began to close he called out, "I love you too."

As the oaken barrier swooshed close he heard a deep chuckle followed by, "I love you three."

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><p><strong>So, are you with me?<strong>


	2. Sunday Bloody Sunday

**Hi Friends!**

**Thanks for all the support for the first chapter of the story. It seems like you guys are ready for this ride...and boy am I taking you on one in this chapter.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and adds! Please feel free to leave a note! I love hearing your thoughts!**

**Please forgive my mistakes. I do try to edit but things do slip by.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Spencer softly slid his hand over the lush green grass that was framing his body as he lay on his back by the shore of a small unnamed creek. He relished in the trickling sound that the water made as it stumbled over the rocks on its journey to the mighty Potomac River. Above him the sky was a beautiful cerulean blue and spotted with puffy white clouds that seemed to form objects when he put his imagination to use. His body was swathed in thin white cotton shirt that was quickly accumulating stains due to the grass beneath him. On his bottom half he wore a simple pair of breeches that were supple and flexible when compared to his usual kingly attire. Overall it was most unusual outfit for him to be wearing but he was too comfortable to care.<p>

The sun was three-quarters of its way through its daily journey, signaling the coming end to Spencer's favorite day, Sunday. He enjoyed the seventh day of the week so much due to the fact that he had no courtly obligations to fulfill. It was the one day he could just relax and enjoy himself, especially since Derek had gone away.

Derek.

Spencer sighed heavily at the thought of his absent lover.

It had been over four months since the morning Derek had galloped off into the sunrise alongside Sir Hotchner and the majority of Quantico's army right on his heels. Since then Spencer had been running the everyday dealings of the kingdom with the help of his mother and Lord Rossi.

He wished he could say that his days had been so frantic that he hadn't had a chance to miss Derek, but that was not the case. While his mornings and afternoons were taken up with checking the castle fortifications, holding court, and organizing caravans to take supplies to the troops, his nights were long and lonely. The young man's lonesomeness had gotten so bad that he found himself wishing that the sun would not set and that the day would just last forever. That way he would never have to spend the overnight hours all alone in the gigantic bed that the two of them had christened four years ago.

The former slave gave an annoyed groan as he propped himself up on his elbows and watched the clear water meander past his position. His eyes may have been focused on the course of the stream but his mind was contemplating how much longer he would have to rule on his own.

According to the letters that he sporadically received from his husband it could be another year before the two were reunited again. From what details Derek was able to write, Spencer had gleaned that King Charles had split his army into three divisions and sent them off to attack a different parts of Quantico. Luckily, Derek and Sir Hotchner had sat down before they left and mapped out potential regions that would be vulnerable to attack. Once they identified the cities that were the most susceptible they divided their own army into three units and sent them out to fortify and prepare the citizens for a possible attack.

The issue that Derek was now facing was trying to take down King Charles main force, rumored to be led by the king himself, with an army that was spread thin. He couldn't call the troops in from their positions throughout the country and he was reluctant to force the civilians into serving. So for now Derek and Sir Hotchner were doing their best to strategize and hold off the opposing forces with the manpower they had. And whatever they ended up planning Spencer desperately hoped that it would cut down on the amount of time Derek would have to spend in the field.

Spencer's musings were suddenly cut short by the sound of galloping hooves coming over the hill behind him. He stood up quickly; his hand immediately reached toward his waistband where he usually kept his sword but found it barren. He cursed out loud at his own stupidity for not bringing a weapon with him during wartime. Deciding that being up on his horse would at least allow him to run if needed, he mounted he steed, Abacus, and turned her to face his unwanted visitor.

The tension in the monarch's shoulders relaxed slightly when he saw the bright colors of Lady Penelope Garcia bouncing up and down as the horse raced closer and closer to his location.

Spencer immediately registered her panicked look on her face when she reared her horse to stop before him.

"Your Highness," she addressed him breathlessly. "You must come quickly."

"What is it? What's wrong?" he instantly inquired.

"It's the Georgians. The guards on the watchtower spotted a large contingent of them headed for the castle…too many to defend against. Everyone is running around in a panic and the dowager queen refuses to go into hiding," she spilled out in a rush.

Panic sizzled through his veins when he realized how poorly prepared the castle was for an attack. They had gambled on Charles being preoccupied with the troops out in the field that they only left a skeleton crew behind to man the palace.

Spencer swore a vicious curse as he gripped the reigns of his horse tighter in his hands. "Come on! We have no time to waste," he shouted before digging his heels into Abacus's sides and galloping off toward his home.

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><p>Derek was sitting atop his brilliant black stallion, Thunderhead, examining a map along with Sir Hotchner. Off in the distance they could see the billowing of dust being thrown up from the invading army that was soon to come over the rise. A major battle was about to start and the two were trying their best to devise a plan of attack that would give them a decent advantage over their enemy.<p>

"So, Sir Kassmeyer and his troops have already left?" Derek asked Aaron.

"Yes sire. I dispatched them an hour ago. They should be down in the valley right now."

Derek gave a small nod of approval, "Good. If all goes as planned then they should be in the perfect position to pop up behind Charles's soldiers by the time the battle starts."

"They'll never see them coming," Hotchner said, pleased with the plan.

"Do we know who's leading the army yet?"

"No. I sent out scouts a few days ago but I haven't received any word back yet," the knight replied.

The king let out a grunt of frustration, "I hope Charles is leading his own army. I want to get a chance to meet this foul man before I run him and his forces out of my country."

Amazingly, Derek had never met Charles or any of his family. The neighboring monarch hadn't been to Quantico since before the young king had been born and since then he had only sent representatives to talk in his stead. According to his mother the last time Charles had stepped foot in town was to celebrate her marriage to William. She had described him as a particularly vile and conceited man who wouldn't deign to talk to anyone with of a rank of duke or lower.

Sir Hotchner went to respond but was interrupted by the shouts of young man coming through the throng of knights surrounding the two. "Make way! Make way! I have news for the king!"

The young monarch turned in his saddle toward the frantically approaching knight. The man came to a halt in front of his superiors and gave a slight bow from his perch on his horse. "Your Highness. Sir Hotcher," he said respectfully from behind his shiny metal helm.

"Sir Anderson, is that you?"

The young man pulled his headdress off and said, "Yes, Sire."

"What are you doing here? I left you at the outpost a few miles from the castle."

"I'm sorry Sire, but I had to come. T-there's trouble back at the castle –"

"What do you mean by trouble?" the king asked, he voice deep with concern.

"A huge faction of troops led by King Charles was fast approaching the castle. Even with all the men from the outpost the soldiers defending the gate are going to be outnumbered by at least two to one. The commander sent me here to get you and tell you to send help immediately," Anderson explained.

Derek's eyes immediately went to horizon where he could start to see the opposing army materialize. "This was a decoy. Charles set us up!"

"What do you want to do, Your Highness?" Hotchner asked in a calm and cool voice.

The king couldn't keep his alarm from creeping into his words, "We've got to get back to the castle…but we can't just retreat."

"No…we can't, Your Highness. We must tackle this foe first before we can go help the others," Hotchner agreed.

"How long have you been on the road, Anderson?"

"I've ridden nonstop for two days, Your Majesty."

"Two days…two days," Derek muttered, shutting his eyes with a grimace. "They could all very well be dead by now…"

"You mustn't think like that, Your Highness," Hotchner chided the younger man. "Charles's goal is to take over the kingdom. He wouldn't want to kill off all of his potential subjects. His wants to weaken you by hitting you where it hurts. My guess is that he is going to take the royal family as prisoners and use them as bargaining tools to get what he wants."

Derek's dark pools searched the other man's face and took comfort in the strength he found there. "You're right. He would be a fool to kill…to kill everyone. It would only make me…make us fight against him even harder." The king turned and faced the oncoming army, "We must take down this sect and reduce his force first. What's done at the castle…is done…we'll head there after this fight is over."

As much as those words hurt Derek to say, he knew it was their only choice at the moment. There was no way that he could turn his whole unit around and run back to defend the castle; a castle that could very well have already fallen to the enemy.

No. He had to stay strong for his men and show his opponents that he and his army was a force to be reckoned with. For now, he would just have to hope Spencer and the rest of his family were safe and that the defenders he had left behind were strong enough to hold the gates.

Saying a silent prayer, one that was beseeching the powers above to protect the love of his life, Derek drew his sword and prepared to lead his army into battle.

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><p>Spencer and Penelope made record time back to the castle. As they approached the stone fortress they noticed that the back gate was minimally manned. They quickly went up to the entrance and the guards let them in, explaining that most of the soldiers were at the front gate preparing for battle. Spencer could only nod his approval and told them to keep their wits about them in case the back was attacked too.<p>

As they emerged into the courtyard the two companions were greeted with complete and utter chaos. There were soldiers rushing around doing their best to herd the citizens into secure locations, others were running to man the front gates, and some were still donning their gear and getting ready for battle.

The courtyard was in such a state of pandemonium that no one even noticed that the king was in their midst; not that Spencer could have been bothered with formalities at the moment anyways. He trotted his horse right up to the front steps and dismounted her there. Unfortunately, he was in such a harried state that his descent off of Abacus was anything but graceful. His foot left foot ended up getting caught in the stirrup causing him to end up strewn on the ground in the mud and dust.

"Your Highness," Penelope squeaked as she jumped down from her mount. "Are you alright?"

Spencer didn't have any time to be embarrassed and stood up immediately, ignoring his now torn and soiled clothing. "I'm fine."

"But your bleeding," she protested.

"Never mind that now. You must go and find everyone. Get them to one of the hidden shelters and don't come out," he ordered.

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got to go get the queen mother and convince her to go into hiding. Once I do, we will meet you all in the hideaway," he explained. "Now get going! We don't have much time."

She nodded her head and picked up her skirts in preparation to run. "Be careful Spencer," Penelope bade him before she took off to find their friends, not realizing that she was so distress that she allowed his given name to skate pass her lips.

He smiled at her slip of the tongue and called to her retreating form, "You too!"

The former slave turned and ran up the steps and through the large oak doors. He sprinted off down the corridors on a path that led straight to the throne room. Along the way he ignored anyone stupid enough to stop and pay respect to him and just shouted at them to find shelter.

Soon he found himself skidding around a corner and straight into the throne room. Unsurprisingly, at the front of the room sat his mother in her chair of honor looking calm and regal as if this was a perfectly normal day. Standing by her side was her newly betrothed husband, Lord Rossi. His hand was placed on her shoulder and he was bent over whispering in her ear.

There was no one else in the room, so Spencer didn't hesitate to shout out, "Mother! You must come with me immediately. We've got to get you to one of the shelters." He ran further into the room and stopped at the bottom of the staircase leading to the top of the dais.

Diana just smiled at her son and beckoned him to come closer. "Nonsense my son. I will not run and hide from an enemy like a small child. I will meet them here in a dignified manner and represent our kingdom for you."

When Spencer reached the top of the stairs he knelt down in front of the queen mother and grabbed her fair hands in his. "Please mama," he beseeched with worry shining through his honey-brown windows, "It's for your own safety. We have no idea who is out there and what their orders might be. I can't let you stay in here and be a sitting duck."

She curled her fingers around his and squeezed his hands, "Oh my dear boy…whomever is out there isn't after me…it's you they want. You need to be more concerned about your own welfare right now. This country cannot afford to lose one of their kings. I will stay here in your stead; it is you that must leave now and go into hiding."

"But ma – "

"No buts, Spencer. Listen to reason. We cannot have you falling into their hands. If they don't kill you than they will use you to force Derek into negotiations. That or you will be bait in a trap for Derek and when they seize him you will both end up dead and Quantico will become theirs anyways. Now I order you to get out of here!" Diana said with all the conviction in the world.

"Listen to her, Your Highness. I will stay here and protect her. You have nothing to worry about," Lord Rossi said, supporting his betrothed.

Spencer, still clutching his mother's hands, realized that she was right. "Promise me that you will take care –"

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise!" cut a venomous voice through the hall.

Diana's head snapped up from her son's gaze and a bitter smile played on her lips at the sight before her, "My dear King Charles, it has been ages but the years have been kind to you. So, to what do I owe this great pleasure of your presence?"

Spencer went to turn in order to confront his foe when he felt his mother tighten her grip on his hands. He looked up at her and caught Diana almost imperceptibly shake her head.

"Ah…the lovely Diana…thank you my dear. I wish I could return the compliment but it looks like you've had a rough go of it since last I've seen you," Charles quipped insolently.

Behind the dowager queen Lord Rossi let out a vicious growl, "You will be respectful to the queen mother, sir."

"Oh…if it isn't doddering fool Lord Rossi. Tell me, have you always been old? I seem to remember you looking exactly the same twenty-five years ago," Charles replied.

Rossi, unable to maintain his usual calm demeanor, took a step forth with his hand on his sword's hilt. However, he was stopped by Diana's quick fingers clutching his sword arm.

"Come now Charles, you didn't come here after all these years to entertain me with your barbarous wit. Why don't you have a seat and we'll get down to business, shall we?" she asked, taking control of the precarious situation.

Charles flashed her a sinister smile, "Funny you should say that Diana…for I am here on business, just not with you."

"Oh? Whoever else might you want to talk to?" Diana asked, feigning surprise.

Anger flash in Charles's eyes, "Don't play dumb with me, woman. Where is the king?"

Though Diana did not show it, Spencer could feel the one hand he still had in his grasp go taut at the man's question. He was dying to turn around and announce his presence to the pompous man but he decided to let his mother continue to lead the delicate situation.

"My son? He is out on the battlefield right now. Where a proper king should be…with his troops," she answered, deliberately taking a shot at the man.

Charles bristled at her veiled insult, "I didn't mean King Derek and you know it. I want to meet his mate, the former urchin that you all elevated to a king."

"Ah…Spencer…why didn't you say so?" the dowager asked innocently, choosing to ignore his goading.

"Woman –"

"Unfortunately, you are out of luck Charles. King Spencer is not here right now. He is out in the field, like his husband, leading one of the other units. I'm sure he's taking down one of your contingents as we speak," she lied flawlessly.

"You and I both know that's untrue. According to my spies he has been here the whole time, playing at kingly duties. So where is the coward?" Charles demanded.

Spencer was seething at the man's insult and started to turn around, intent upon defending his good name, when Diana's voice cut through the storm that had formed in his mind, "Boy, go and get King Charles a chair. We cannot keep him standing any longer."

The former slave looked up at his mother in disbelief. Did she really think that this scheme was going to work? "But –"

A crack sounded throughout the hollow room as Spencer fell over onto the floor with a resounding thud.

"Do as you're told boy!" Charles roared, shaking his hand after the forceful smack he planted on the side of the young king's face. "What kind of country are you running here? Your slaves don't even listen to you?"

Diana sat up straighter and gestured to Rossi to help her son up off the floor. "We treat all of our subjects with respect Charles, and I expect you to do the same!"

"Treat a slave with respect? Not bloody likely."

Spencer rolled over and wiped the side of his mouth in an effort to remove the blood trickling from the corner. He looked over at the man that had just struck him and shivered at his daunting appearance. He was a towering man with dark hair and a beard trailing down his face. His visage was scarred with years of abuse; wrinkles ravaged every corner and blemishes disfiguring what was probably once a handsome looking man.

Behind him were an army of guards and two men that held a remarkable resemblance to the king. The first man was nearly identical to Charles in looks and age, except he seemed to be in better shape and slightly taller. On his hip he wore an intimidating broadsword that had a unique black blade mounted on a silver hilt embedded with rubies. His hair was the same jet black as the monarchs but it was longer and pulled back at his neck in a ponytail.

The other figure was much younger than the other two, closer to Spencer and Derek's age if the young king had to guess. He was sporting a scruffy unkempt beard that he was probably growing in order to make him look older. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable with that Charles was doing for his fingers were fidgeting as he looked around the room as if he expected something to jump out at him.

"Get up off the ground you piece of filth and get me that chair," the man ordered, pulling Spencer out of his observations.

Rossi stretched out his hand and helped Spencer up off the floor. He stood up and brushed himself off, realizing for the first time how his soiled clothes were helping to support the illusion of his rank. He squared his shoulders and looked to his mother. He nodded his head at her and went to grab an extra chair that was sitting off in a corner.

Spencer quickly brought the chair back, more than aware that all the eyes in the room were on him. He placed the wooden seat on the stage next to his mother and stepped back with a bow.

He held his bent position, intent on keeping his face toward the floor until the rival king had sat down. What he didn't expect was a ruff finger to be placed under his chin and it lifted up to stare right into the eyes of the man he was now trying to avoid.

"He may not mind your orders but he sure is good to look at," Charles remarked, his piercing orbs scrutinizing the boy's appearance.

"Really now Charles, I'm sure you have plenty of pleasing people surrounding you on a daily basis," Diana said, trying to divert his attention.

The man chuckled, "That I do…and yet…"

"So where were we?" Diana questioned sternly.

The country's nemesis pulled his finger from Spencer's chin and turned back to the dowager queen. "I was asking you where I can find this spineless slave that had been turned into a king."

"And I told you –"

Before the queen mother could even finish her sentence Charles snapped his finger and his right-hand man drew his sword and aimed to straight at Diana's chest.

"Think carefully about your answer, m'lady."

Spencer's mother stayed strong under the point of the sword, "I will not compromise his location. Surely even you can respect that, sir."

"I do, my dear lady…I do. But I'm afraid you are forcing my hand with your refusal to talk."

"Raze the castle then! You could turn it upside down and set fire all our crops, I still won't reveal His Grace's whereabouts," she said fearlessly.

"That's what I thought you'd say," Charles said, sitting back comfortably in his chair as he signaled to his man.

At the same time that Charles was speaking, Spencer, unable to stay silent any longer, stepped forth with every intent to reveal himself.

"Enou-" the boy stopped short as he watched with horrified eyes as the sleek black blade glided effortlessly through his mother's heart and pulled back out with the sheen of blood glinting in the light.

"NO!" he screamed as he watched Diana's eyes go wide in surprise. Her mouth formed a small "o" shape before she slumped over the arm of her seat, lifeless and bloody.

"You bastards! Mo-"

Out of nowhere one hand wrapped around his waist while another enveloped his mouth, silencing his cry for his mother. He thrashed about in the hands of his captor, struggling to free himself from the vicelike grip. He watched helplessly as Lord Rossi cried out his own lament and collapsed to his knees in front of his beloved.

Spencer was still fighting with the arms as he watched Charles stand up from his seat and pull his own sword out of its sheath. He then stepped forth wordlessly and stabbed Lord Rossi straight through the back. The old man straightened up momentarily in shock and then tumbled down into a heap on the floor.

The young king knew he was shouting out obscenities behind the strong hand that gripped his face and he could feel his uncontrollable tears streaming down his face.

The hold on him tightened and forced him to turn with the strong body behind him.

"Raphael, get that slave out of here and secure him back in my tent. He will make an excellent addition to my household," Charles directed as he brushed a stray tear away from Spencer's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Then get back in here and I want you and Tobias to search every nook and cranny of this castle. Annihilate everything and everyone in your path until that pathetic excuse for a king is found."

Raphael, the man that must have been holding his body captive, pulled Spencer backwards and out the door. The boy was kicking and clawing the whole way, trying with all his might to get back to his mother and her lifeless body that was now sprawled out dead upon her ceremonial throne.

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><p><strong>Surprised?<strong>


	3. Spoils of War

**Hi Friends!**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! I sincerely hope you enjoy where this is headed.**

**I forgot to let you guys know that there will be non-con in this story. Sorry...it's going to happen...(honestly, what else would expect of me? lol)**

**Please forgive my mistakes! It's late and I wanted to give you something to start your week off with.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Derek swung his sword in a large arc, hitting the enemy soldier on the horse next to him. The other man took the staggering blow on his left shoulder and promptly plummeted from his saddle and down to the ground. The king didn't wait to see if the man was dead; for he was sure that the trampling of hooved feet would finish the job for him if need be. The young man just moved on to the next foe in line, letting out a battle cry as he renewed his grip on the heavy instrument of destruction that he was wielding.<p>

Around him the battlefield was wrought in chaos. There were troops from both sides crying out on the ground, desperate for help that would never come. Derek did everything thing he could to mentally push past the shrieks of anguish that were swirling around him but he still found them hard to ignore. Deep inside his conscience was frantically urging him to jump off his horse and aid those in need and it was getting harder and harder to close his mental eyes against the carnage.

The battle, which was still currently raging around him, was of epic proportions. King Charles had sent over eight hundred men fight against Derek and his much smaller group of five hundred. Fortunately, Derek and Sir Hotchner had built up a strong army over the last four years, instilling in the men sword skills that were second to none.

The king was proud of his troops as they fought the larger contingent of soldiers. In the few moments he had between each attack he could see that the majority of injuries and deaths were wearing red and black, not Quantico green. It was a motivating factor that helped inspire his troops to fight harder; for they could see that they were more successful than their opponents. In fact, the opposing side's body count so far was due only to Derek's group alone; Sir Kassmeyer and his troops hadn't even sprung up from behind the enemy yet. Once that realization dawned on the king he knew without a doubt that the outcome of this battle was going to be in Quantico's favor.

The young monarch stole a huge breath and squared his shoulders. There were adversaries all around him and he couldn't afford to become distracted by ruminations. Out of nowhere a pain filled cry pierced the air and the Quantico standard bearer, a boy no older than sixteen, who had been riding next to him took a blade in the gut and fell off his horse.

Derek felt immediate remorse at the loss of such a young life. He was incredulous that any soldier on either side of the battle would kill someone so young and defenseless. It would take a warrior with a cold cruel heart to kill a child that was in no way a threat to him.

The king released a furious growl at the thought of having to tell this young man's parents the bad news. He looked up from the boy's body and straight into the face of the opposing side's commander.

The two formidable men sat face to face on their horses, as the rest of the battlefield seemed to disappear around them.

"What is your name, coward?" Derek demanded of the black man in front of him.

The older soldier man's lips formed a smirk, "And what, pray tell, gives you the authority to call me a coward, Your Highness?" The last two words were said in a mocking tone, meant to signify his contempt for the young monarch.

"Only a coward would kill an unarmed man," Derek snarled, his lip curling in disgust.

"Man? Hardly? More like a boy…tell me, Your Highness, do you purposefully surround yourself with delicious looking children. I mean really, if I wasn't trying to win this battle for King Charles I would be more concerned with capturing some of your soldiers and taking them to my bed," the older man laughed with a sick sparkle in his eye.

Disgusted by the man's admission, Derek raised his sword and shouted, "You will never get the chance!"

The other man raised his blade high and countered, "We'll see about that, Your Highness. Oh, and you can call me Buford."

Derek barely had time to process the man's name as Buford's sword swung down and narrowly missed his left shoulder. The king, spurned into action, jabbed his blade straight at the knight commander's heart but his attack was easily deflected by the veteran soldier.

"You'll have to do better than that, boy," the knight called out, disrespecting the younger man on purpose.

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," Derek sneered confidently as the two circled their horses around one another.

The monarch took his time, looking for a weak spot but keeping up his defenses.

"I believe that! But that is not threat – because there is so much more of you that I would love to see," Buford taunted, licking his lips as if he was tasting a delectable sweet treat.

Unable to contain his anger and revulsion at the knight's obvious tastes, Derek released a mighty roar and feigned a hard swing toward Buford's neck. He halted the blade's arc in midair and redirected it toward the knight's wrist.

Unfortunately, the commander had more experience than Derek and was able to spot the fake attack. He dipped his head and shifted his horse away from the knife's-edge. He had managed to weasel himself into Derek's space their horses practically touching, and jabbed his elbow into Derek's chin.

The king felt the blow and blacked out momentarily.

"Open your eyes and look to the sky, Your Highness. Let the last sight you see be me," Buford shouted from his perch up on his horse.

Derek shook his head back and forth in an effort to clear his vision. He blinked his eyes and was greet by the site of a gray stallion framed by a baby blue sky. The shadow of a man tipped over the side of the horse, revealing Buford's visage.

The other man jumped down off his horse and stood over his prey, a triumphant smile on his face. "I'm sorry that I won't be able to enjoy your youth, boy. I'm sure it would have tasted sweet." As he discharged his final torment from his mouth he swung his sword up high and brought the tip down, stabbing it into Derek's stomach.

A torturous groan issued forth from Derek's throat as his vision faded. His last thought was of Spencer's crooked smile and his regret for breaking his promise to come home.

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><p>Spencer struggled with all his might against the iron grip that was pulling him away from his home. He needed to get back to his mother; he had to see if there was any way to save her. He knew the likelihood of her surviving the stab was low but he couldn't give up hope.<p>

Not knowing what else to do he brought his hands up and scratched his nails deep into the man's forearms. He dragged them all the way down the exposed flesh, accumulating pieces of skin in the crevasses along the way.

"Gah!" Raphael exclaimed at the sudden stripes decorated his skin. He dropped Spencer down to the ground and gave him a swift kick in the ribs. "You fucking piece of shit. I'll teach you to not to hurt me!" The man punctuated each word he said with another strike to the boy's midsection. The co-king waited for the man to stop before he rolled himself into a ball and coughed uncontrollably. He then over dramatized his reaction to his injuries in the hopes that the man would let his guard down and give him a chance to escape.

So, he turned his back toward the man and groaned in pain as he clutched his stomach. He listened closely and soon heard Raphael ask a squire to run and get him a few bandages for his arms. While the other man was sufficiently distracted, Spencer heaved himself up on his shaky legs and took off at a sprint.

The former slave aimed his sights on the barn off in the distance. He hoped to reach his horse and run off into the woods; there he could lay low until it was safe to come back to the castle and pick up the pieces that remained.

He had gotten halfway to his goal when his legs were suddenly hit with heavy weights that were attached to ropes. Two of the three stone balls delivered mighty blows to each limb, knocking him off his feet, while the third wrapped the rope around both legs, entangling them so he couldn't get back up.

He ended up falling flat on his face in the dirt; the right side took the most abuse due to the sharp pebbles and rocks that were hidden by the grass. His hands were splayed out at his sides from his attempt at softening his fall. As he gathered his senses he gently moved his right hand up to his cheek, inspecting the gashes that marred his tender skin.

Moments later the sound of boot clad feet assaulted his ears, inciting Spencer to open his eyes and see the source of the noise land right in front of his nose.

"You sure are a dumb shit. Did you really think you were going to get away from me?" growled the grizzled man.

Spencer remained silent as he tried to regulate his breathing in an effort to stave of the impending panic attack that was slowly building in his chest due to his failure.

"You're lucky that the king wants you alive because if it was up to me I would have killed you for what you just pulled," Raphael muttered, kneeling down next to the prone boy in order to bind his limbs securely.

Spencer tried hold back a sob of defeat when he felt Raphael grab his arms and force them behind his back. The rough ropes twisted around his wrists, locking them together tightly. "You could let me go. I'll just run off into the woods and I won't come back. You could tell him I tricked one of the other guards and then I'll be out of your hair," he suggested as his bindings cut through his paper-thin skin.

"Keep wishing," he said, ignoring the kid's feeble plea.

"But it's wrong to take me from my home, my friends…my…my family," he said, trying to appeal to the man's sense of decency and avoid saying Derek's name at the same time.

"Right or wrong doesn't matter. All that matters is if it is the King's will," Raphael said emotionlessly.

Spencer gulped at the response, knowing that there would be no reasoning with this man. Instead he sucked in the groan that was threatening to break loose and allowed himself to be thrown over the man's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

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><p>The journey to King Charles's tent didn't take long and before he knew it Spencer was sprawled out on the hard ground. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at Raphael. The soldier didn't pay attention to the king he had mistaken for a slave and set about prepping the room.<p>

While the other man was busy off in the corner, the young king took a moment to observe his surroundings. Unsurprisingly he found that his rival monarch's lodgings were extravagant, even by kingly standards. The man had everything a normal bedroom would contain and then some.

For starters, the fabric that surrounded them was of a brilliant golden brocade etched with Charles's coat of arms. It was a thick cloth that easily kept the wind and rain at bay while making sure the ruler housed inside would never experience an uncomfortable temperature. Off to one side there was a large ornate tub tucked into one corner, empty for now, but waiting for later when the king would want to enjoy a soak after a long day. In the center of the tent sat the fire-pit. It was small but effective, roaring away with the help of at least ten thick logs. Over the flames was a spit that had some unfortunate creature roasting and sizzling as its fat dripped down into the fire. Above the blaze, in the roof of the tent, a vent had been constructed in order to give the smoke a route to escape. Then there was a massive oak table set up next to the pit that had foods that Spencer had never seen before spread out over its vast expanse. The former slave marveled at the fact that all of those delicacies had to have been brought along on the campaign just to satiate the selfish king. Beyond that, an enormous wardrobe was stationed in the corner overflowing with costumes and regal attire for the King to don while he was at war.

Of course, none of those showy pieces were even able to hold a candle to the bed that King Charles had forced his servants to bring along. It was a massive piece of furniture that would easily hold up to seven adult sized bodies. It was covered in a deep red velvet blanket and at least ten pillows of varying sizes and shapes. To top it all off, the frame of the bed was accentuated with four posts that narrowly scraped the roof of the tent and were connect to each other via another wooden frame. There was also a curtain that matched the bed spread draped around the upper supports that had golden thread woven throughout it. The fabric hung down from the two posts near the headboard and could be brought about the bed when needed to allow the king some privacy while he slept. As Spencer gaped at the bed he realized that the tent must have been constructed around it; for it would have been too large to carry through the slit in the fabric that was used as a door.

"Don't even think about trying to escape boy," Raphael growled as he made his way back over to Spencer.

"I…I wasn-"

"Don't lie to me boy. I could see your roaming eyes looking for weaknesses," the man snarled, grabbing the former slave's hair and forcing his head up to meet his gaze.

"I-I-I swear I wasn't l-look-"

A loud whacking sound resonated throughout the room after Raphael's hand connected sharply against Spencer's injured cheek.

"I can't abide liars," he said gruffly, grabbing his captive under his arms and dragging him over to the bed. The man made fast work of retying the ropes around the former slave's wrist so that he was now fastened to one of the bedposts.

"If you can't speak the truth, then you don't get to talk at all," he said furiously as he grabbed a handkerchief out from under his armor and fastened it around Spencer's head.

The young boy bit at the foul tasting cloth and did his best to give the man a ferocious glare.

Raphael laughed at the kid's attempt at intimidation, "Next time learn to tell the truth. It will help you greatly when the king questions you later. He has less tolerance for liars than I do." Once he had concluded his sentence the knight stood up from his crouched position and left the co-king all alone in the tent.

* * *

><p>"Your Highness!"<p>

"Your Highness, can you hear me?"

"Your Grace, you need to wake up."

Derek could hear the persistent voices penetrating the darkness that surrounded him. His abdomen was radiating waves of pain, its throbbing matching the beating of his heart. He let out a pained groan and felt the fog that had been obscuring his consciousness clear a little.

"That's it, Sire. Open those eyes."

The king moaned again but he reluctantly followed the orders of the concerned voice that belonged to Sir Hotchner.

He blinked multiple times as the light of the sun constricted his pupils. He realized that he was lying on his back with a few soldiers milling around him.

"What happened?" he croaked out, squinting his eyes until they grew accustom to the bright beams.

Hotchner sighed and kneeled down next to the cot that was supporting the monarch. "You were knocked off your horse and stabbed in the gut."

His injury seemed to flare to life with the knight's reminder. He brought his hand up to the wound and tried to press on it to assuage the stinging. Unfortunately, his actions did the opposite of what he intended and caused more pain to flow through his body. "Oh god…How bad?"

"We almost lost you, Your Highness."

"How…how did you…"

"You were lucky. Right after you were stabbed Sir Kassmeyer and his troops showed up and distracted your assailant from finishing the job. My squire was able to get over to you during the confusion and he pulled you out of the fray and to our physician," Hotch explained.

"Buford…"

"Pardon me, Your Grace?"

"My assailant…he said his name was Buford."

Derek noticed how Sir Hotchner's face grew dark at the man's name. "Do you recognize his name?"

"Yes," the knight gritted out.

"And?"

"He was here the last time King Charles came to visit. I didn't get to interact with him much but I heard rumors…," he trailed off.

"What do you mean, rumors?"

"The other squires told me to steer clear of him. They said…they said that he liked the taste of fresh meat."

Anger flashed across the king's face. "I'll lay odds those weren't just rumors. He alluded to his tastes when we were fighting. He said…he said-" Derek cut himself off from the rest of his sentence when he remembered there were more people listening to his recapitulation than just his friend and confidant.

Hotchner could tell that whatever was said between the two had shook his king to the core. "It can wait, Your Grace."

Derek nodded, thankful that the other man was insightful enough not to push him. Suddenly, he realized that he had no idea what had happened throughout the rest of the battle. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around himself frantically. His eyes scanned the area around his prone body and didn't see any signs of danger. There were just soldiers milling about getting food, resting against trees, and taking care of the other injured fighters.

He turned his discerning eyes back to his faithful friend, "The battle?"

"We were triumphant, Your Highness."

Derek let out the breath of air he had been holding and relaxed back onto the cushioned bed, "Triumphant?"

"Yes. Thanks in part to our tactical decisions. They honestly thought they had us for a minute but when Sir Kassmeyer and his men came over the rise they saw that they were outnumbered. Instead of staying and fighting it out till the bitter end Buford called a retreat and they galloped off with their tails between their legs," Hotch said with a satisfied smile.

"Cowards," Derek remarked.

Hotchner hummed his agreement and stood up from the monarch's bedside. "Get some rest, Your Grace. We'll start our journey back to the castle tomorrow."

The young king, whose eyes were practically closed, jolted up from the bed and cried out, "Spencer!" He pushed his aching body up with all the strength he could gather and turned to put his feet on the ground.

Sir Hotchner reacted quickly to Derek's alarm and put his hands on his friend's shoulders, pushing him back down. "No, Your Grace. You must rest. Your injury was too severe for you to be up and about right now. You are in no shape to ride with that wound and the physician said that you shouldn't even attempt to walk for another two days. He's afraid that you'll bust open your stitches and bleed out."

"I don't care. It's been over two days since Anderson rode out to let us know about the attack. Who knows what's going on at the castle! I have to – we have to get back!"

"But it is not safe for you to travel. Tomorrow is even going to be precarious but we're fashioning you a makeshift carriage for you to ride in when we leave in the morning."

"I can ride a horse just fine! Now get your hands off of me!"

Hotchner stood strong, never letting his grip weaken.

"Let go! You don't understand! We left them practically defenseless…my mom…our friends...Spencer…he could be…they could be…"

"Dead," the knight said blatantly.

Derek flinched at his friend's blunt word.

"Trust me, Your Highness, I do understand…Haley's there too," the knight said compassionately. "But we must keep our heads and not go storming off in a fit of emotions. This country cannot afford to lose you too! We will do this smartly and safely and arrive back at home in one piece. And whatever we find when we get there we will confront together."

The king hung his head in defeat. He knew his friend was right but that didn't stop his heart from aching at the thought that his beloved was dead.

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><p>The tear tracks from earlier had dried on the boy's chapped cheeks. His eyes had run out of moisture to shed a few hours ago and since then he had been trying to get the image of his mother out of his brain.<p>

At the moment he had his bound legs stretched out in front of him and his head leaned back against the post. His mouth was dry due to the cloth absorbing all of his saliva and his throat was scratchy and raw. His fingers were hanging limply behind his back, numb now due to the rope cutting off his circulation. He had worked on freeing himself the whole time but the knots never unraveled.

The co-king was just about to allow himself to try to sleep when a trumpet blared outside of the tent and the door was pulled back letting in a large gust of cold air. Spencer's eyes snapped open instantly and watched as the king stalked menacingly into the shelter.

"I don't understand! Are you sure your men searched everywhere?" he growled on his way over to the dining table.

"Yes, Your Highness. I double checked everything." Raphael stated, following behind the man.

"And what about your men?" Charles demanded of the younger man whose name still eluded Spencer.

"My-my men were v-very thorough, f-father. We found no sign of h-him or the other courtiers," the boy said nervously.

A snarl escaped Charles's lips at his son's response. "Then where the hell is he? Our spies were very adamant that he has been here the whole time. I want to leave more than the body of the queen mother in my wake. What could be better than the King Derek coming home to see his young lover's head on a spike up on the ramparts? That would definitely convince the naïve child that he needs to give me what I want."

Spencer's brown orbs grew wide at hearing his fate if Charles discovered who he actually was.

"We will look again tomorrow, Your Grace. And this time I will bring in the dogs," Raphael said.

Charles grunted at the man's plan and sat down at the table. He then waved at the other two figures in the room to join him and started to tuck into his meal.

"What would I do without you, dear brother?" the king said between mouthfuls. "Definitely not rely upon my son."

The young man flushed at his father's callous comment and tilted his head down in shame.

"Ha…truer words were never spoken. But nonetheless, I will find him for you."

"What if you don't?" came the boy's meek voice with a tiny bit of heat behind it.

"What was that Tobias?" Raphael demanded, not used to the boy being antagonistic.

"I said, what if you don't find him. Did we really just come here to kill King Derek's lover?"

Charles sat down his fork on the table and stared at his son. "No boy. We did not come here just to kill the king's husband. Our main goal is still to seize the major access points to this country's lucrative resources. We will secure the waterways for transporting goods and then we will move further into the country and harvest the minerals and timber. There is much money to be made off this land and it's high time that it fills my coffers."

"So we're just in this for the spoils of war?" Tobias asked naively.

"No son! The most important thing that we will receive when our side is victorious is power. Soon enough the world will learn know my name and cower at my feet," Charles gloated. The arrogant man took a long swig of his mead after his diatribe and let out a mighty belch.

The young man looked at his father with trepidation and simply said, "Oh."

"Speaking of spoils…leave me. Now," Charles ordered with an evil glint in his wolfish eyes.

Raphael and Tobias both got up immediately and left their unfinished meals on the table. They both knew not to protest their sudden dismissal or else they would have the wrath of the king to face.

Spencer, who had been watching the whole exchange from his position against the bed, started squirming against his bonds in distress. The tent doors swished shut and the young man held his breath in anticipation of what Charles would do now that they were alone.

Strangely, the king continued to sit in his chair and finished his meal. The mighty monarch didn't seem to be in any rush as he savored each bite of his mouthwatering fare.

Ten minutes later the man finally set his fork down and pushed himself away from the table. He ambled off to the other side of the tent and soon after Spencer could hear the trickling sound of the monarch relieving himself in a chamber pot.

Once he was done answering the call of nature, Charles slowly stepped toward the bed. When he got close to the restrained captive he crouched down and stared deep into Spencer's eyes.

"Raphael told me about your disobedience earlier. He also told me about how your tongue has tendency to lie. I do not tolerate any of those qualities in the people that surround me, especially not from a slave," Charles stated, his words accentuated with a dangerous tone.

Spencer, unable to move, did the only thing he could and tilted his head down away from the man's scrutiny.

The king snarled at the loss of eye contact and grabbed the young man's bony chin, forcing it up so their gazes would meet.

"You will learn, boy…oh will you learn. In fact, your first lesson is going to start now."

Spencer cringed back into the post, his deep pools that once sparkled with laughter and amusement now shining with intense terror.


	4. Left Behind

**Hi Friends!**

**Ugh! Was this chapter ever a $& ( to write. It was weird...I knew exactly what I wanted to happen but I was having one hell of a time getting all of the words out. I'm really sorry if this chapter feels overworked and in need of improvement, but at this point I feel like any more editing on my part will do more harm than good.**

**Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed! I would love to respond to all of you but my little girl seems to think she should take up all of my spare time :)**

**Ah..FYI - Zeldawolf2000 was kind enough to bring up the skewed timelines. Yes, Derek and Spencer are not on the same exact day. For the purposes of this chapter, the majority of Spencer's storyline is occurring on Wednesday night and Derek's part of the story is occurring on Thursday. I will be bringing the timelines together in the next chapter. Sorry if this was confusing for anyone!**

**Please forgive my mistakes...I'm sure there are a few.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The man's threat resonated in Spencer's ear as he sat trembling on the cold hard ground, still helplessly tied to the bed. He desperately wished the handkerchief wasn't lodged in his mouth because he wanted to shout out and proclaim his innocence against the other man's charges. Although, deep down he knew that he could protest Charles's allegations all he wanted and it wouldn't make a difference. The other king had already made up his mind and wasn't open to hearing anything that would contradict his beliefs. So instead of debasing himself further with muffled pleas that would be ignored he gathered his courage and tried to maintain an expressionless face.<p>

Unfortunately, his attempt at controlling his features was a failure. For he knew his countenance took on an alarmed appearance when the hardhearted king went over to the small pile of wood that sat by the fire and picked up a log the size of Derek's forearm. What was this mad man planning to do to him?

Charles, who had been keenly observing his prey, chuckled as the boy's eyes grew wide at the sight of the wooden bludgeon gripped tightly in his hands. His gut stirred in delight at the vision of unadulterated fear that swept over the slave's visage. The king closed his eyes and basked in the rush of power that flowed through his body at the thought that he had caused such a delicious reaction in his captive.

A small sniffle caused him to crack his eyes open and behold the gorgeous boy's form once again. A sardonic smile formed on his lips as he crouched down and grabbed his captive's ankles. He untied the rope that was holding them together and tossed it off to the side. His prey gave him a confused look in an effort to discern his intentions, but Charles's face gave nothing away.

He was about to drop the kid's feet back down to the ground when a hint of green caught his eye. He let go of Spencer's left foot and tightened his grip on the right. He brought the appendage in question up higher and inspected the shoe that housed it.

"These are some really nice shoes…especially for a slave," Charles stated, squinting his eyes at the hand-stitched leather that had been decorated with hunter green accents. The king looked back up at his prisoner and allowed his eyes to rove over the rest of his clothing.

Spencer worried about being scrutinized too closely, tried to jerk his foot out of the man's grasp in a desperate attempt to distract those dark discerning eyes away from his apparel. For he knew without a doubt that he had to maintain the slave ruse or else Charles would make good on his threat from last night and kill him.

The king was surprised when the slave's foot was yanked from his fingers. He furrowed his brow and emitted a low rumble from his throat. The usurping monarch did not like the defiant streak that he saw developing in the boy and knew just how to take care of it. He quickly reached out and snatched the youth's left ankle and removed the fancy shoe, tossing it to the ground without any further regard for the fancy fabric it was made out of.

"Didn't your previous masters teach you obedience?" he growled, pulling the boy's leg straight out and tightening his grip around the scrawny ankle. He then gave the slave a self-satisfied smile and drew back his hand.

Spencer gnashed his teeth against the cloth filling his mouth and tried to give the man the most submissive look he could muster.

Charles didn't buy the captive's expression. "Well, you will learn to mind me," he stonily stated as he brought the wood down and stuck the center of his prisoner's bare foot.

Unable to maintain his silence, the young sovereign let out an animalistic yelp of pain. Tears immediately welled in his eyes as his mind brought up facts about the human body and how the foot contained some of the largest bundles of sensitive nerve endings. It was a fact he was surprised to learn while he was studying human anatomy years ago with Lord Gideon. And with that knowledge he knew that any more smacks from King Charles's wooden torture tool would cause him to feel pain comparable to his collar being fused shut around his neck.

"That was for trying to get free from my brother earlier," the king explained, raising his instrument of pain once again. "Now this one is for lying, something that you should avoid doing ever again in the presence of myself or my men."

The young man on the floor clenched his eyes shut upon hearing those words and tried to force his mind to another place, one where the strong arms of his husband were wrapped around him, holding him tight.

* * *

><p>Another loud snore perforated the silence of the tent as Charles slept deeply on the bed behind the bound co-king. It had been three days since the Georgian's had attacked the castle and Spencer had spent them all on the floor, tied to the king's bed.<p>

He was only allowed up to answer the call of nature and it was never unsupervised. Other than that he had pretty much become a fixture of the room, ignored and overlooked as the king and his men searched for the one person that kept alluding their clutches, him.

One more snore assaulted his ears as the young monarch stretched out his left foot and stared at the black and blue appendage. Charles had given him at ten swats with the wooden log, each one stronger than the one preceding it. At the time the punishment was occurring the young man had thought his foot was being broken but now he could see that it was only deeply bruised and incredibly swollen. Based upon the sight before him, he knew that the simple act of walking was going to be painful for weeks to come.

The genius let out a heavy breath through his nose and stared at the dwindling fire as he allowed his mind to reflect upon the past few days.

He had discovered quite a bit of information about his captors while he was forced into his position as a fly on the wall. For instance, Spencer had learned all about the Georgian's war strategies and their plans for Quantico's resources and land. Though by far, the most valuable piece of information he was able to discern were the family dynamics. It didn't take long for him to learn that Raphael was just as sinister and malicious as his brother while the son, Tobias, was generally ridiculed by the other two and ostracized for his weak demeanor. Overall, it was pretty clear that the king hated his son and resented his inability to live up to the monarch's standards.

Suddenly, a scream tore through the air immediately outside the cloth tent door. The shrill sound caused the slumbering king behind Spencer to shoot upright in the bed and fling the covers off of his body.

"What the hell?" he practically shouted as he grabbed a robe and tied it around his waist.

The youth on the floor was just as surprised by the sound and craned his neck to follow the king's movements with his wide owlish eyes.

The angry ruler stomped over to the door and ripped it open, revealing billowing blue skirts with tiny heel clad feet kicking up a fuss.

"Let me go!" a familiar feminine voice shrieked as she was carried into the tent by Raphael.

"What is the meaning of this?" Charles bellowed, stepping away from the woman's wild movements.

The king's brother dropped the struggling female to the ground and she landed with an "Oof!"

Spencer fought against his bonds, straining his neck in an effort to see above the ruffles that blocked a view of the girl's face. He watched with bated breath as her creamy white hands pushed down the skirts that seemed to have swallowed her whole. She then planted her palms on the ground next to her and shoved her body up off the ground and into a sitting position, her blonde hair hiding her features from sight.

"The night's watch found her scrounging around in the kitchen and brought her to me," Raphael explained, kneeling down next to the newest captive. "She must have been hiding out somewhere in the castle with the rest of the missing courtiers. I figured that we could force her to lead us to their hideout and see if that coward of a king is hiding there amongst them," he ventured, grabbing her neck and forcing her to look up at the king.

The tendrils of hair that had been masking her appearance from Spencer fell away and revealed the lovely, yet currently distressed, visage of Lady Jennifer. Spencer felt himself shout out to his friend against his better judgment. "Jennifer!" came the stifled call, sounding more like a loud moan than her name.

All eyes turned toward the trussed young man, one pair curious, one annoyed, and the girl's beautiful blue set were surprised.

"Shut the hell up, boy!" Charles snarled as he stepped over to the slave and gave him another vicious slap.

The sharp smack turned Spencer's head to the side, splitting his lip and tearing his cheek on the ornate wood frame of the bed.

Lady Jennifer cried out in surprise, "No!" She made to get up off the ground but Raphael tightened his grip on her neck, keeping her in place.

"I'd hold your tongue too, if I were you, m'lady," he sneered.

She snapped her jaw shut and looked at her friend with a worried look fixed on her features.

The young man blinked his eyes in an effort to dispel the stars that were monopolizing his vision. He shook his head back and forth and slowly brought his gaze upward to meet his friends. He gave her a weak smile around the gag in order to reassure her that he would be alright.

She nodded her head slightly at his gesture and looked back up at Charles, "Let us go!"

The man scoffed at her demands, "Us? I only see you. And no, my brother is right…you could prove to be quite useful."

"There is no way that I'm going to help you. You're crazy –"

Her words were abruptly cut off as Charles backhanded Spencer.

Outrage showed on her face as she tried to scramble toward her friend, "What did you do that for? He didn't say anything!"

Charles grinned with pleasure and laughed out loud, "You, my dear, are being incredibly disrespectful to your new sovereign. And you seem to be genuinely invested in the condition of this slave, so what better way to teach you manners than to take it out on him."

"I-I'm not-"

"Don't play dumb with my, my lady. You've only been in here three minutes and I can tell you are dying to go to his side."

Jennifer ceased her protests, realizing that the man had a point.

"Now be polite and answer a few questions for me. Why don't we start with something simple? Like, what is you name?"

Spencer watched his friend struggle internally as she decided whether or not to answer the man. Her delicate hands wrapped around her stomach as if she was hugging herself and she looked off to the side.

"Jennifer," she murmured.

"What was that? Speak louder and address me appropriately," Charles demanded.

A spark of fire flashed in her eyes as she turned her icy blue star toward the formidable man, "I said my name is Jennifer, but if you think I'm going to address you as my king you are quite mistaken!"

A burst of pride erupted in Spencer's chest at his friend's outright defiance of the usurper.

In contrast, Charles let out a roar and jumped to his feet. He kicked his bare foot into the boy's stomach as he marched over to the girl and grabbed her by her forearms, hauling her up off the ground. "I am not above hurting you too, Lady Jennifer. But before I do I will make sure that piece of dirt slave behind me suffers everything coming to you twofold. Am I making myself clear?"

Panic gripped the captive woman as the man's gravelly voice barked in her face. The terrified blonde knew that the man wasn't bluffing and that if she wanted her and Spencer to come out of this in one piece she was going to have to tone down her insolence. "Y-yes, Y-your Grace," she stuttered out, doing her best to placate the beast she had awoken.

"That's more like it," the king said smugly, releasing his grip on her arms.

She crashed back down to the ground in a heap and rubbed her abused backside. She looked over to Spencer and saw how upset he was at her harsh treatment. "I'm alright," she mouthed before wrapping her arms back around her midsection.

Charles, aware of their little exchange of assurances, decided to use their friendship against them. "Now, let's try this again. In fact, to be nice I'll start with an extremely easy question and work my way up from there." He paused and looked down at the girl to make sure she was listening. "What is my new slave's name?"

Silence reigned throughout the room as Jennifer scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn't reveal Spencer's identity. She wasn't sure how but the pompous king that was towering above her had yet to realize that he had one of Quantico's co-kings in his clutches and she didn't want to be the one to bring that to his attention.

"Well, my lady? I'm waiting," he said, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Uh-I…"

"This shouldn't be so hard. I just want to know his name. I haven't had enough time to bother to ask him yet and since you seem to be his friend…well?" Charles prompted, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"It…it's Reid."

* * *

><p>To say Derek was pissed would have been a gross understatement. It had been two whole days since his altercation without Buford out on the battlefield and the army had yet to pack up and leave. According to Sir Hotchner they had misjudged the amount of wounded that needed to be transported back to the castle and every man that wasn't injured was busy trying to create makeshift carts to haul all the incapacitated soldiers and dead bodies.<p>

Of course, the king understood the importance of going home as a unit and bringing back the deceased to their loved ones for a proper burial but he couldn't help but selfishly want to leave them behind. For his mind was swirling with possible scenarios as to what might have happened to the poorly defended castle and he desperately wanted to get home in order to check on his loved ones. Unfortunately, there was no way that wish was going to come true; he was utterly useless due to his wounds and all he could do is sit and wait for the army to be ready to march.

Currently, the king was sitting by a fire on a stool that was backed up against a tree eating some stew. There were a few other soldiers were seated around him but none of them felt up for a conversation. It wasn't until Derek caught a glimpse of Sir Hotchner walking by, discussing something with Sir Kassmeyer that the young man broke the veil of silence that had settled over the assembled fighters.

"Sir Hotcher, any news?"

Aaron turned immediately at the sound of the king's voice and bowed to him, "Actually, you were just the man I was looking for, Your Highness. It looks like the carts will be ready by tonight. Would you like to set off immediately or wait till the light of dawn?"

Derek gave the man a look of utter incredulity, "At once, of course!"

Hotchner nodded his head; he would have been surprised if the sovereign's answer would have been any different. "Alright, Your Grace. I will have the men start loading up the supplies and the injured. Why don't you finish your meal get everything set and then we'll come back and load you up into your wagon?"

Frustrated that he couldn't be more useful, Derek just grumbled his acceptance and watched his men go about their work. He would give anything to be able to get up and help them out. As king of the realm it was his duty to pull his weight and be a good example for his men. If it wasn't for his damn injury he would be running all over the field, giving orders and lending a hand. As it were, all he could do was sit back and observe the bustle of his homesick soldiers.

Moodily, he placed his half empty stew bowl off to the side; his appetite had vanished because of the knots that had formed in his stomach from the anticipation of their departure.

Soon he would discover what awaited him back home and finally find out the fate of his beloved.

* * *

><p>Spencer's head twisted around to see Charles's reaction.<p>

"Reid? Like Derek Reid? Are you telling me that this young man is a member of the royal family?" the man asked with greed twinkling in his eyes.

"No…not like that, You Highness," she quickly corrected. "We call him Reid because of how tall and willowy he is. You know…like those plants you see growing near the river."

The king sat down on the bed next to his captive and carded his fingers through the boy's hair. "Reed…how fitting. You do slightly resemble those weeds with your scrawny body and unshorn hair." His thick fingers seized Spencer's honey locks tightly and pulled his head back. "Which is something that I'll have to do fix when we get home. No member of my household is allowed to look as unkempt as you."

Jennifer, feeling ill at the thought of this man taking her friend back to his country, cleared her throat to divert his attention.

The monarch looked back at her while he maintained a firm grip on the boy's hair, "What were you doing down in the kitchen?"

Pleased that she had successfully distracted him, the lady gladly answered, "I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since you invaded our castle."

"Just you were hungry or were your friends too?"

Knowing that she had been backed into another corner and rather than earning Spencer more pain by lying she told the truth, "Everyone was hungry."

He nodded smugly at her answer, almost like he was pleased with the simple deduction he made. "One last question, my lady. Is the king among your friends?"

"No," she answered swiftly with conviction.

"Don't lie to me. You wouldn't want me to mar this boy's perfect complexion," he threatened as he traced a finger down Spencer's sharp cheekbone.

"No, he wasn't among us," she reiterated, just as confidently as before.

Charles's eyes hardened as they searched her face. It almost felt like the man's beady orbs were trying to bore beneath the layers of her skin to find the truth.

Jennifer jerked back a little when Charles suddenly released his hold on the co-king's hair and stood up from the bed. With carefully placed steps he stalked over to her seated form and snapped his fingers at his brother. Raphael didn't miss a beat as he pulled out his sword and handed it hilt first to Charles.

Spencer started to thrash against his bonds in desperation. He couldn't bear to watch another family member fall to King Charles's blade.

The king, ignoring the boy's feeble writhing, aimed the tip of the steel blade straight at her swanlike neck, "Do you know, my lady, what I do to a woman who lies?"

Jennifer silently shook her head, keeping her gaze trained on the monarch's scowling face.

"I cut out her treacherous tongue and feed it to the dogs," he sneered.

Her eyes bulged in horror at the implication of his words. Behind the invading king Spencer was tugging fruitlessly against the ropes as his mind was assailed with flashbacks of his mother's and Lord Rossi's deaths.

"Lucky for you, I believe you," Charles said tersely, surprising the boy and his friend. He lowered the weapon and handed it back to his brother.

Raphael, who had been a silent observer up until then said, "I'll take her back to the castle tonight and have her show me their hiding spot. Perhaps we can take a few more courtiers prisoner and use them as bargaining chips against King Derek."

Charles nodded as he turned away from the girl on the floor, "Excellent idea, brother. I knew there was a reason I put you in charge of my army. I'll go wake my good for nothing son and have him get the dogs ready while you gather the men. Then I'll come back here and grab the lovely Lady Jennifer so she can assist us in our search. Won't you, girl?"

Jennifer averted her gaze away from the man, deigning not to answer his questions.

He laughed at her sudden meek demeanor, pleased to find that some of the fire she had when they first met had dimmed. "Oh, you'll be showing us every nook and cranny of that pile of bricks. The king must be hiding somewhere in that castle. I can picture him now, cowering in some darkened corner. His body shivering in fear as he cries for his lover. The look on his face when he sees me instead of his dear Derek will be priceless!"

Raphael grinned, "I'm sure the only thing that will top that is watching him piss himself as we separate his head from his neck."

"Ha! How right you are! Alright, what are we waiting for? Go get the men. I'm going to secure her and then I'll be on my way."

Raphael saluted appropriately and walked out of the tent.

The king turned back to his newest captive and hauled her over to the bed. He sat her next to Spencer and went to work fastening her delicate wrists to the part of the footboard that was above her head.

"Don't go anywhere my dear. I will be back for you soon," the two heard King Charles call before he walked out the door.

The second the tent flap closed the lady turned toward her friend and said, "Spence, are you alright?" The use of the king's nickname was commonplace among the two when they were alone.

Spencer spoke through the cloth, "I'll be okay."

Jennifer, upset that the gag was preventing him from speaking clearly, scooted her body right next to his and said, "Don't move." She leaned in as close as her bindings would allow and snapped her teeth around the cloth resting against Spencer's cheek. She gave it a few hefty tugs and loosened it enough to get it to drop down around his neck.

The youth instantly darted his tongue out of his mouth and moistened his dry lips, "Thank you."

"Spence…what is going on?"

He looked over at his friend and dropped his eyes, "He thinks I'm a slave. He intends on taking me back to Georgia with him and forcing me to…to…work in his household."

There were a few moments of silence as the two occupants of the tent contemplated what Spencer's new role would entail. When her thoughts on the matter went to places that were too dark to handle, Jennifer changed the subject, "Why does he think you're a slave?"

His fragile face crumbled at her question. "I-I was with the dowager queen and Lord Rossi in the great hall. I-I was kneeling before her begging her to go into hiding but she refused. He found us like that and the queen m-mother decided to address me as a slave to hide my identity. He never figured it out…but he…he…Oh God…JJ…he had his brother kill her…and then he turned his sword on Lord Rossi and ran him through."

The girl's heart broke at the utter anguish that was oozing in her friend's voice. She continued to struggle against the cords, longing to break free so she could gather him into a warm comforting embrace.

"Oh Spence…there's something you have to –," her words were cut off when the ropes around her right appendage loosened.

"What?"

Jennifer looked up at her wrist, whatever she had been going to say was now completely forgotten. "It's loose," she said in awe.

"Can you get free?"

"Maybe…if I...," JJ didn't finish her sentence and instead gathered her legs beneath her body. She pushed up on her knees and found herself level with her wrists. Using the same method she employed with Spencer's gag, she attacked the knot with her teeth.

In a matter of seconds the rough twine was fell to the ground and she was using her newly free limb to work on her left hand.

"Yes!" she exclaimed when she was completely liberated from the bed. She scrambled over to him and pushed him forward so that she could start to work on his fastenings.

Spencer felt a fleeting moment of hope before the reality of the situation slammed back into him, "No! Stop! You don't have enough time to free me too."

Jennifer bridled at his demand, "I can't just leave you here!"

"We don't have a choice. He could be back any second."

"No, there is no way I'm going without you," she said with tears in her eyes as she came to the realization that he was right.

Spencer gave her a broken smile, "I'll be alright. I promise. Anyways, you have to escape in order to tell Derek what happened to me."

"Spence…"

"I swear, I'll be okay. Please…please just tell Derek I love him and that I won't give up on him," his said with a cracked voice.

Jennifer bit her lip as she flung her arms around him in a quick embrace, "I'll tell him." She sat back on her heels and looked deep into his sorrowful honey-brown eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. Come on now, you've got to get out of here. Look, over there," he nodded to the back of the tent. "Lift the bottom up. You should be able to slip out underneath it and run out into the forest without being seen."

She dashed over to where he indicated and started pulling up the fabric. Panic flowed through her when she heard the sound of boot clad feet crunching on the gravely ground right outside of the tent.

"Go!" Spencer hissed fervently.

Jennifer lugged the rest of the heavy fabric up and looked back one last time at her friend. She quickly whispered, "Goodbye," and disappeared out into the night.

The wonderful woman's escape was perfectly timed. For as the last vestiges of her blue silk dress vanished from sight Charles flung the flap open and took in the pile of ropes that lay abandoned on the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>Coming up on our next installment:<strong>

**Derek finally gets home and has to come to terms with the destruction that was left in Charles's wake.**

**Spencer deals with the aftermath of JJ escaping.  
><strong>


	5. Heartbreak

**Hi Friends!  
><strong>

**Well, sad news in my family once again...I lost my grandpa yesterday. It was very sudden and unexpected but he lived till the ripe old age of 91. I was blessed to have so many years to enjoy with him. Well, needless to say, I needed something to take all the sorrow off my mind for a little while...so I focused my energy on writing.**

**This chapter is mainly a flashback (in italics) for Spencer but it was necessary in bringing my timelines together. By the end, both Derek and Spencer are on the same day of the week.**

**Please forgive my mistakes, they truly are unintentional.**

**Thank you for all your reviews and comments.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Spencer sat with his shoulders slumped and his head down on the top of a large chocolate stallion. His wrists were bound in front of him and the rope was attached to the pommel of the saddle. He was doing his best to block out the arms that were wrapped around his waist, holding him steady as they rode over the rough terrain on their way to Georgia.<p>

The young king had barely registered any of the ride. His mind had completely shut down from the news he had overheard two nights ago and he had been unable to process anything since then. The only thing that he had been able to do was relive the moment that his world had shattered over and over again.

* * *

><p><em>King Charles had been furious when he realized that Jennifer had escaped his clutches. Even though his misappropriated slave had nothing to do with the girl's getaway he took his anger out on the boy. Spencer couldn't count how many punches, slaps, and kicks he endured before the monarch got tired.<em>

_After the king had released all of his aggression on the slave he released him from his bonds and pulled him to his feet. Spencer fell down immediately due to the injured state of his left foot._

"_Stand up, you weakling," the man snarled. "Since you helped the young lady escape you're now going to take her place."_

_Spencer wavered as he struggled to stay upright. He didn't respond to the man but flashed him a confused look at his comment._

"_Honestly, I don't know why we didn't think of it earlier," the king stated, grabbing the slave by the scruff of his neck. "You know all the hiding spots in the castle, don't you? What slave doesn't? No, we should have done this from the beginning. Come on, you're going to lead us through every single hallway, alcove, and room. If you dare to leave just one stone unturned than I'll make this last beating look like a lover's sensual spanking."_

_The co-king silently nodded and allowed his hands to be bound in front of him. The king used an extra length of rope as a crude leash which he fasted to the boy's wrists._

_It took them hours to scour the castle. The Georgians were incredulous as to how many hidden hideouts were concealed by moving bookcases, monstrous tapestries, wooden floorboards, and façades of fake stone. Spencer did his best to lead the troop of men to all of the spaces he knew without a doubt would be unoccupied and tried to avoid the one he was sure his friends were all utilizing._

_Once the exhausted group had searched the final spot, the secret passage that led into the co-king's bedroom, Charles turned to the slave and grabbed him by his disheveled, "Is this the last one, boy?"_

"_Y-yes, Sire."_

"_You're not lying to me, are you boy?"_

"_N-n-no. I swear this is the last one that I know about," Spencer stammered._

"_So you're saying there could be more?"_

"_I-I don't know."_

"_Raphael, grab some of the clothes from the changing room. See if they can pick up the coward's scent and weasel him out."_

"_Of course, sire."_

_Spencer gulped down his panic, wondering what King Charles would do when the dogs lead Raphael back to him._

"_Let me know what if you find anything. I'm going to bed," he said gruffly before tramping out of the room and back to his tent, pulling Spencer along behind him._

_When they had gotten back to the king's quarters, Charles dropped the rope and told Spencer to lay down on the bed. The boy looked between the man and the bed a few times, wishing he could wrap his arms around his body to protect himself._

"_What are you waiting for boy? Move."_

_The youth scurried over to the massive bed and sat down on the edge. Charles went and took care of nature before turning around and looking at his newest slave._

_Perturbed that the young man had not completely followed orders he strode over to the slave and stood in front of him. Spencer kept his gaze concentrated on his bound wrists, studying the rough twine holding them together, while he took shuddering breaths in anticipation of what was going to happen next._

_Charles brought his hand up and grazed his thumb over the boy he knew as Reid's angular cheekbones, pressing deeply on some of the bruises that had formed on the translucent skin. The young man whimpered as his tender flesh was manipulated which triggered the king's groin to start stirring._

_He continued his caressing of his prisoner, tracing a line down the boy's swanlike neck. His finger got about halfway down when it hit the metal collar. Charles pushed the fabric of Reid's shirt away, exposing the supple skin encapsulated by the band. "Such an expensive collar for a mere slave," the sovereign commented as he fingered the jewels embedded in it. "Who was your master?"_

"_I-I've had m-m-many masters, Sire," Spencer stuttered nervously._

"_Don't be smart with me, boy. Who fixed this magnificent piece of work around your neck?"_

"_K-king William demanded that I wear it," he answered honestly._

"_Ha! I don't doubt that he did, but I know a miser when I see one and William would have never condoned such valuable gems being wasted on a slave. So I'll ask you again, who gave you the jewels?"_

_Spencer's mind was whirling a mile a minute as he tried to come up with an acceptable answer. He didn't want to mention Derek at all, so he went with his next best choice. "It was the queen mother, Sire. I was her personal slave."_

"_Even after King Derek foolishly abolished all slavery throughout his lands?" he ask shrewdly._

_The co-king was taken by surprise at the man's knowledge of Derek's decree but he continued on with his lie nonetheless, "Y-yes. She…she demanded that she be allowed to keep me. I-I was the exception to the rule."_

_Out of nowhere the Georgian king pushed Reid back onto the bed, "I can't say that I blame her. Well, don't worry now boy, you've got a new master…and I know just how to use you."_

_Spencer tried to stifle a sob but it broke free anyways. He had thought this part of his life had been left behind. Memories of that horrid night down in the dungeons with that evil man Foyet taunted his brain. He had believed that once Derek had been crowned king of the realm he would never have to deal with being someone's slave and plaything ever again._

_Charles walked around the bed, eyeballing the heaving chest of the young man prone on the fluffy duvet. He went to the other side and crawled on the mattress above the boy's head. He reached down and grabbed the rope leash that was still attached to his slave's wrists. He pulled the young man's arms above his head and attached the twine to the bedframe, rendering his victim helpless._

_He stalked back around climbed up onto the bed, straddling the youth's waist. He removed a dagger from his belt and sliced the white shift he was wearing away from his body. A thrill of delight coursed through his veins at the sight of the milky white chest that was swirled with black and blue marks._

_After marveling at the exquisiteness that was beneath him, he took his hands and stroked the tender skin. His meaty paws took their time and explored every crevasse only stopping when they landed on a short necklace poking out from underneath the silver collar._

"_What's this?"_

_Spencer, whose eyes had been clenched shut the whole time, opened them wide when he felt the pull on his neck. He remained silent, his heartrate speeding up at the thought of losing his only link to Derek._

_Charles pulled the chain out from its hiding spot, revealing the key that the necklace had been woven through._

"_Is this the key to your collar?"_

_The co-king stayed mute on the subject and waited to see where the monarch's mind was headed._

"_I can't believe they were stupid enough to give you the key to your own freedom! But what I really don't understand is why you haven't used it yet. Never mind, I'll fix this faux pas." The king gripped the key tightly in his fist and went to yank it from around Spencer's neck when the youth finally spoke up._

"_N-n-no! It is the key to m-my collar but-but I can't use it."  
><em>

_Charles stopped, his critical eyes narrowing suspiciously._

_Spencer licked his lips and swallowed, "K-king William thought it was funny, a form of torture for me, to make me wear the key to a collar I could never remove."_

_Charles furrowed his brow, "Explain."_

"_King William had the collar fused shut with molten metal. It can never come off. The key is useless. He said that he wanted me to wear it so that I was always reminded of my station and my inability to ever rise above it."_

_The man let out a loud boisterous laugh at the justification, "It's a wonder I wasn't better friends with that man. We would have gotten along so well." He dropped the key back onto the boy's chest, "Keep it. I insist. I might have to look into doing something like this with my other slaves…"_

_Charles missed the relief that passed over Spencer's face when he allowed the key to remain around the co-king's neck. Instead, he turned his gaze on the gaunt body's waist and the small trail of hair that peaked out above the waistband of his breaches._

_His stout hands reached down to undo the belt securing the pants firmly to the skinny waist. He had just released the latch when he was once again interrupted from his endeavor._

"_Father! Father, I have news," shouted Tobias as he flung the curtained door aside in order to enter the tent. The prince skidded to a halt the second he saw what was happening upon the bed tucked into the corner of the room. "Oh…um…I-I…"_

_Charles stayed seated on Spencer's lap and growled, "This better be good, son."_

"_I-I-um…i-i-it is…I mean…S-Sir-  
><em>

"_Spit it out already!"_

"_Sir Buford! He's here with his troops. He is seeking an immediate audience with you."_

_Tobias didn't need to say anything else. The king jumped off the bed immediately and said, "Well send him in at once."_

_His son bowed his way out of the tent and went to retrieve the man in question._

_Reid, forgotten on the bed, dropped his head back against the mattress in relief. His brain didn't want to process how close he had just come to being violated once again._

"_Stay put, we'll finish what we started later," Charles muttered, walking over to the dining table and taking a seat._

_Spencer closed his eyes at the statement and turned his head away. His hopes of getting out of this had been dashed with just a few simple words._

_Tobias came back into the tent just a few minutes later and announced, "Father, Sir Buford is here to see you."_

_Charles stood up and held out his hands in a welcoming gesture, "Carl! Come in and have a seat. Tobias, go fetch us some wine a refreshments."_

"_Yes, father," the young man said before heading out to complete his father's orders._

"_Now, Carl. I see that you are here in one piece, so you must have good news from the battlefield."_

_Carl, gave a slight grimace and said, "Unfortunately, sir. I bring good news and bad news."_

_The king's demeanor changed instantly; his eyes grew stormy and his mouth twisted from a smile to a sneer. "You had better hope the good news outweighs the bad."_

_Sir Buford met the king's fierce look with a carefree smile, "I assure you, Your Highness, that you will be very pleased by the end of our conversation."_

"_Then begin," the sovereign ordered with a wave of his hand._

_The knight leaned back in his chair and held out the empty tankard to Tobias, whom had just gotten back with the requested sustenance. He allowed the boy to fill his mug with plenty of wine and took a long swig of it before starting his tale, "Well, the bad news is that technically we did not win the battle. They may have had only about five hundred men or so but somehow King Derek devised a way to surrounded us and closed in on our forces from both sides. I lost quite a few men and had to call a retreat."_

_The king's countenance seemed heated at the man's nonchalance, "You mean to tell me that we vastly outnumbered them and you still lost the battle? Then what the hell is the good news?"_

_Spencer, still flat on his back wiggling his finger trying to get loose from the ties, felt a flood of happiness hearing that his husband's success on the battlefield. That meant he mustn't be too far behind the Georgian knight and his troops. He knew then that if he could just hold on a few more hours, maybe even half a day, his knight in shining armor would be here to save him._

"_Ha, now this you're going to like, You Grace. I may not have won the battle but I sure as hell won the war," Buford gloated._

_The monarch leaned in, interested in hearing the information that had his best knight so satisfied with himself. Over on the bed, Spencer was straining to hear the news too. The glee he had been feeling moments ago fleeting in the face of whatever this man was about to reveal._

"_Your Highness, I singlehandedly killed King Derek Reid. I am happy to announce that the Kingdom of Quantico is all yours," he said, raising his mug in triumph._

_With those words the captive king's heart burst into a thousand pieces, ripping his soul to shreds and carving out a hollow spot in his once fulfilled life._

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><p>Derek groaned as the wagon wheel struck a deep rut in the road and jostled his injuries. They finally packed up and left camp on Thursday night. They traveled almost the whole day on Friday, only stopping for meal breaks and to rest the horses. It was now mid-afternoon Saturday and the scenery around them was very familiar. He was pretty sure that when they crested the next rise the castle would be visible out in the distance.<p>

He sat up straighter and tried to peer around the knight driving his cart, excited to finally get a glimpse of his home.

Abruptly, the wagon jerked to a halt. The king, confused as to what caused the sudden stop, called out, "What's going on? Why'd we stop?"

The driver turned around and said, "Sorry, Your Majesty. The horses at the top have stopped. I had no choice."

Derek grumbled a complaint under his breath and made to get out of the cart.

"Your Highness, please stay with me. We don't know when the journey will start up again."

The young king, never one to practice much patience, obstinately ignored the man's plea and hefted himself off the back of the makeshift carriage. He then grabbed the crutches that one of the squires had fastened out of large tree branches and trekked up the hill.

The stubborn young man could feel his body protesting his actions but his desire to get home overruled his senses. When he got to the top he saw Sir Hotchner on his horse consulting with Sir Kassmeyer. They were both utilizing spyglasses and looking off in the direction of the castle.

"Sir Hotchner, what is the meaning of this holdup?" Derek shouted as he limped toward their horses.

At once, the knight in question jumped off of his steed and made his way over to his sovereign. "Your Highness, you should not be up. Please, let me take you back to the cart and I'll fill you in there."

"Absolutely not. Now I can see that something is wrong just by the look in your eyes and I demand to know what it is!" Derek argued, undeterred by the knight's good reason.

Aaron's shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing that he wouldn't be able to convince the headstrong youth into listening to them. "It's the castle, Sire."

"What about it?" he asked cautiously.

"It looks to be invaded," Sir Hotchner explained grimly.

Derek's face paled, "I-I need to see for myself."

Aaron put his hand up to ward the king from moving around him, "I don't suggest that right now, Your Grace. It's better if you wait here and let me take some men down to assess the situation better."

Derek, suspicious at the knight's suggestion, ignored the man, "Give me your spyglass at once, Sir Hotchner. I want to see this invasion for myself."

The knight nodded his head in defeat and watched as the king hobbled up higher on the hill. When Derek found a spot that he was satisfied with he held out his hand. Aaron gently settled the delicate instrument into the monarch's grip.

The king dropped one of his crutches and brought the glass up to his eye. He peered through the tool, looking down into the valley. The first thing he spotted was the portcullis and how it pulled up with a multitude of enemy troops scattered about it. He then ran the lens up to the ramparts and saw more enemies still.

He wouldn't admit it out loud in front of his troops but his concern for his lover and family was tearing him apart at this point. Were they even alive? What type of condition were they in?

The king was just about finished with his inspection when a tall metal spike that was stationed on parapets the just above the castle entrance caught his eye. There, up for the whole world to see and for the crows to feast upon, was his dear mother's head, mouth gaping open in the afternoon sun.

Derek didn't even register dropping the spyglass as he dropped to his knees and let out a wail of anguish.


	6. You Promised

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><p>It took fifteen minutes for Derek to come out of his shocked stupor. During that time Sir Hotchner watched as he went from being inconsolably distraught to extremely irate. The knight wanted to go put a hand on his friend's shoulder but he knew that any gesture he made would not be welcomed right now. So he let the young king be and waited out the emotional torrent.<p>

Derek was having a hard time processing his emotions. He wanted badly to crawl back into the wagon and cry his eyes out in mourning over his mother's death. But on the other hand he had an intense desire to drop everything, commandeer the nearest horse and go galloping off to the castle to enact his revenge.

He was about to do just that when the image of brown eyes sparkling with mirth and milky white skin fluttered through his memory.

Spencer!

He grabbed the spyglass that he had flung down in anguish earlier and peered through it once again. He skimmed the ramparts once again as he tried to steel himself for the possibility of his dear lover's head on skewer much like his mother's.

He felt guilty at the relief that coursed through him when he found the parapets empty of a second spike. He was still deeply saddened and angry about his mother but the possibility that Spencer was still alive allayed some of that pain.

The king dropped the hand clutching the spyglass to his side and wiped his face with the other. He took a deep breath and turned toward his loyal knights. "What are we waiting for?"

Sir Hotchner observed the young man's face as it transitioned from that of a grieving son to the stoic face of a resilient monarch. He had to give the boy credit for being able to push his emotions down at a time like this. "Your Highness, the plan at the moment is to keep everyone back and out of sight of the watchmen. As of right now it doesn't look like we have been spotted and I'd like to keep it that way."

"What? Why? We need to get down there and take back what is ours!" he exclaimed incredulously. His troubled mind couldn't process why Sir Hotchner would want to bide his time when lives – Aaron's own loved ones included – could be in mortal danger. "Our family and friends are counting on us! We can't leave them down there another second with those trespassers!"

"Believe me, Your Highness, I understand your sense of urgency…but if we go storming the castle right now we will likely be defeated. We must keep our heads about us and observe our enemies. That way when we do attack we will come out victorious," the middle-aged man said wisely.

Derek hung his head. "…I know you're right…it's just that I can't stop picturing what else may be happening in there as we sit around cooling our heels. What if by the end of the day another h-hea…someone else joins my m-m-moth…someone else is up on a spike? How can we sit here and put the lives of all those innocent people in jeopardy like that?" the king asked.

Unable to maintain his distance any longer, Sir Hotchner reached out a sturdy hand and placed it on the youngster's shoulder and squeezed it firmly. "Because it's our duty. We would do more harm than good if we go rushing down there. What would happen to all of those innocent people if we are defeated and their king is –you are – killed? Then they would forever be at the mercy of a tyrant who is more interested in power than the well-being of his people – our people."

Derek brought up his own hand clasped Sir Hotchner's, clutching it back tightly in a nonverbal gesture of appreciation. He looked up toward the castle and answered the knight's question, "The effect on their lives would be cataclysmic. This country would be ravaged by Charles's armies and left to pick up the pieces while trying to abide by that fanatical man's rules. Alright…you win. What's the plan?"

* * *

><p>Spencer didn't come out of his depressed daze until the body that had been holding him steady on the horse all day dismounted. Sufficiently jostled awake, the young king blinked his eyes and looked at his surroundings.<p>

The invading army had chosen to set up camp in a secluded green valley on the bank of a wandering stream. The expansive caravan spread out far and wide throughout the land and started to pitch their tents and build fires. Close to the captive king there were foot soldiers getting to work on setting up King Charles's massive shelter. The echoes of grunts and groans coming from the belabored men infiltrated Spencer's ears and made him thankful that he wasn't being forced to help.

"My father doesn't know how to travel lightly."

Surprised by the unexpected comment, the young man tilted his head down and saw the prince looking up at him. The genius gave Tobias a wry smile before he averted his eyes toward his bound hands. He wiggled his fingers back and forth, encouraging blood circulation in the numb flesh.

"I-I'm sorry about that. My father insisted that you stay restrained after…especially after that girl escaped. But honestly, I don't know where he thought you would go while we were riding," Tobias said with a hesitant laugh, his gaze steadied on the course rope that was chafing Spencer's wrists. "I-I can't undo them completely but I can release you from the horse. Would you like to get down? I could get you something to eat and take you into the bushes so you can relieve yourself?"

Spencer silently bristled at the thought of having to be escorted to the bathroom, even though he was used to it by now. He hadn't been allowed to do anything on his own since he had been taken from the castle. Either he was tied up or heavily guarded. He found it very strange that Charles was so possessive over someone – a slave especially – that he had barely even known for a week.

Putting aside his discomfort at the unavoidable intrusion of his privacy, the young king nodded his head to signal that he did indeed want to get down to take care of his bodily functions.

Tobias reached up and unknotted the end of the rope attached to the saddle's pommel. He then placed Spencer's right foot in the stirrup and helped him dismount from the horse. Unfortunately, the king's lanky body had too much momentum and it caused him to practically fall backwards off of the horse. He could feel his body plummeting downward but his descent was abruptly halted by the embrace of two strong arms.

"I got you," the prince exclaimed as he pulled the slave's lithe body up and assisted him in planting his feet firmly on the ground.

Spencer pushed the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes aside and said a meek, "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Eww, enough of that. My father is the king, not I. When he's not around just call me Tobias...," the monarch entreated.

The young king raised his eyebrow at the prince. The only people that were permitted to use Derek and his given names were their close friends and family. The fact that this young man was so quick to have a supposed slave call him by his Christian name was very telling.

Tobias, seeing the slave's wariness, followed up his request, "Please…it makes me feel a little more human to have someone out there that doesn't feel the need to address me properly. And I feel less like my father's son and more like my own person."

The genius decided to test his theory and quietly inquired, "Surely there is someone more deserving than I that deserves that honor. I'm but a spoil of war that your father confiscated from his enemy. I should be the last person you'd think to reach out to."

Tobias sighed heavily, "No one wants to be the friend of King Charles's greatest disappointment. I'm a leper that is to be given a wide berth by all. I…I probably shouldn't be telling you all of this." The prince grabbed Spencer's left forearm with his hand and started steering him toward the shrubs that were scattered along the bank of the stream. "Come on. There is much to do and my father will be expecting you once his tent is erect."

The brown-eyed captive remained silent and allowed himself to be led along by the sullen prince. He knew that he had pushed the other man too far but he really didn't care. He had his own demons to contend with right now – namely the haunting memories of his dearly departed Derek – and he wasn't interested in being this troubled young man's sounding board.

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><p>Tobias didn't say anything else as he led Spencer over to some bushes that were on the edge of camp. He didn't leave his captive completely alone but he did give the other boy some privacy. Once the co-king was done taking care of his business, the prince wordlessly tugged on the rope attached to his wrists and took him over to one of the flourishing fires.<p>

When the two arrived the atmosphere around the heat source was lively and jovial. The soldiers were relaxing with drinks in their hands and plates full of food. One of the men had even gotten out a lute and was strumming an animated tune that had quite a few of the fighters tapping their feet along with the beat.

Spencer was surprised to see how quickly the mood shifted when Tobias walked up to the group. The music abruptly stopped and the boisterous conversations dulled to a low murmur. The young man watched as the prince shifted from foot to foot as all the men inspected him with a sharp eye as he sat down on a large log positioned near the fire. The second his butt was planted firmly on the rotting wood a chorus of excuses rose up into the air as the men quickly vacated the area.

The genius, who was still standing next to the prince, looked down at the other when the open space had completely cleared out.

"Don't look so surprised. I told you," Tobias said wryly, "no one wants to be associated with me. Why don't you have a seat while I go and fetch us something to eat?" He didn't wait for an answer as he got up and guided the slave over to a tree. He then took the length of rope he was still holding in his hands and wound it around the trunk a few times, tying it off when he felt the segment was short enough. "I'm sorry that I've got to take these precautions but if my father found you free to roam he'd have my head…Anyways, you should be close enough to the fire to feel some of its warmth. I won't be gone too long and when I get back I'll untie you and we can sit closer to the flames."

Spencer's discerning eyes watched as the prince walked off into the maze of carts, his shoulders slumped and his gait unsure. The young man was definitely uncomfortable in this environment, even though he was surrounded by his own people. The genius's wheels started turning at the thought that he may be able to use Tobias's excommunication to his advantage. Perhaps he could even talk the vulnerable boy into helping him escape. Then he could go home and…and…

And what?

There wasn't anything for him at home anymore.

The sovereign's legs collapsed underneath him as the bitter realization cut him down to his core. His mother was dead. Lord Rossi was dead.

Derek was dead.

He curled up into a ball and moaned out the anguish that had been sitting heavy on his heart for days. He cradled his head in the palms of his hands, the heels of which became damp while unfettered tears started flowing down his cheeks. Meanwhile, his mournful thoughts carried him deeper and deeper into his mind's abyss, forcing him to confront the emotions he had hidden away from his captors. The dam that had been holding everything back had finally broken causing him to sob so violently that he started choking on the air that his beloved could no longer breathe.

His soul felt so empty – so black – and no matter how much he searched it, even into its darkest recesses, he couldn't find one reason to fight against this hell that his life had become.

How was he supposed to keep on going – supposed to fight – when his reason for living was gone?

All throughout his life it seemed as though Fortune's Wheel had never turned in his favor. But then briefly, for a few shining years, Spencer's whole world had turned around. He was given everything he could have ever hoped for, a mother, friends, a father-figure, and a soulmate.

But now the wheel had turned back in the other direction and taken away everything faster than the blink of an eye, leaving his world devoid of any color and Spencer damaged beyond repair.

The forlorn lover tilted his head back and looked up. He knew that the universe was stretched out above him but he couldn't even see it through the dreary clouds that distorted the night sky.

"How could you leave me?" he implored his love, whom he was sure was looking down on him from somewhere far above. "I-I can't do this…live this life without you in it…God…I…I can't even breathe…"

He sniffled a bit and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his worn-out shirt. He suddenly found himself overwhelmed with anger and before he knew it his voice was crying out, "And you-you promised that you would come home!" A half sob mingled with a growl tore its way out of his throat. "You always keep your promises! Why was this the one you chose to break?"

"Who are you talking to?" Tobias's timid voice asked, cutting off Spencer's emotional tirade.

"…I-I…no one."

The prince handed his prisoner a chunk of bread and a bowl of stew. Then he sat down in the grass next to Spencer and ate a few bites of his own meal. He chewed slowly while his mind decided on the best way to get his father's newest victim to open up.

"Did you love him?"

Spencer, who was in the process of bringing a piece of bread up to his mouth, froze at the question.

"Did you love him?"

"H-him who?"

"The man that broke his promise."

"W-why do you think it's a m-man?"

"Because you said, 'You promised to come home.' I just figured that it's not normal for a woman to be wandering the roads alone during wartime…so I took a guess that it was a man."

Spencer looked away, amazed at the prince's sound reasoning.

"So?"

"So what?" the co-king asked, trying unsuccessfully to avoiding the question.

"Did you love him?"

Spencer looked back up into the sky and saw a little section where a patch of clouds had cleared away, allowing a few stars to shine through. "Y-yes, I loved him."

"What happened to him?"

"H-he was killed."

It was Tobias's turn to hang his head. "It was by my father's army…wasn't it?"

Tears welled in the captive's eyes at the reminder of his lover's demise. He knew that his voice wouldn't work if he tried to answer so he settled for nodding his head.

"I'm so sorry."

Spencer just shrugged. There was nothing that the prince's sorry could do for him or Derek and it didn't make him feel any better.

"I…God…I hate my father," the prince admitted after having witnessed enough of the other boy's heartbreak. "I swear, if there was anything that I could do…I would."

"Y-you could let me go," Spencer suggested with a small spark of hope glistening in his brown pools.

"I can't…"

"But you could…a-and if you hate him so much you could just come with me," Spencer pleaded, hoping to appeal to the boy's hatred of his father.

"It wouldn't work. He'd find us and then he'd punish me and kill you," Tobias said with a finality that the monarch couldn't ignore.

"…then just kill me now."

"What? N-no! I couldn't do that," Tobias stuttered.

"Please? If you leave me alive you are dooming me to whatever torture your father has planned. J-just take me out of this world and let me join the ones I love that are waiting for me on the other side. If you do, than we would both win this game your father seems so intent upon playing with our lives."

Tobias suddenly stood up, discarding his unfinished meal without a second thought, and uttered gravely, "My father always wins in the end." He then made his way over to the bindings that were keeping Spencer attached to the tree and unfastened them. "Come on, my father is probably looking for us as we speak…and we don't want to keep him waiting."

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><p><strong>Next time: Spencer finally reaches King Charles's castle and Derek finds out the fate of his lover.<strong>


	7. Dead or Alive?

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><p>Derek was a bundle of nerves as he sat in the camp waiting to hear about the outcome of their meticulously planned night frontal attack.<p>

It had been decided two days ago that Sir Hotchner would lead the troops in under the cover of darkness and attack the front gates when the invading army's troops were at their weakest. Once they laid siege to the gates they were then going to infiltrate the courtyard, climb up the battlements and take out the men defending the ramparts. If all went well they were then supposed to sneak up on the sleeping soldiers in the barracks and take them out before they could even crack their eyes open.

A loud booming echo reverberated through the valley where the camp was erected. Derek, who was sitting in his makeshift litter at the top of the hill quickly grabbed the spyglass and searched through the dark night to see the source of the noise.

It took him a few minutes to adjust his eyes to the dim light but eventually he was able to train the instrument on the castle. He ran the spyglass back and forth over the brick and mortar until he found a gaping hole at the top of the tower where Spencer's science laboratory had been located. He saw licks of flames reaching out through the black sky as the fire inside destroyed all of his lover's hard work.

"Damn…," he muttered under his breath. "I'll just have to requisition the architects to design him a bigger and better laboratory when this is all said and done."

He lowered his instrument and grabbed the crude crutches that had been created out of a few large tree branches for him. He used them to hobble carefully down the hill and over to the community fire. There were only a few soldiers left in camp with him, some of them injured like himself, and they all looked just as sullen as he felt.

As he approached the fire the men that could stand up did and paid their respects to him. He waved off their attempts at formalities and hunkered himself down on a thick log that was stationed close to the flames.

Out of nowhere a bowl of stew was thrust into his hands. The king mumbled his thanks and even though his appetite was lacking he tucked into his meal.

He was halfway through the bowl when the pounding of hooved feet could be heard throughout the area. Derek set aside his meal and immediately snatched his crutches, using them to prop himself up into a standing positon. He turned toward the sound and was pleasantly surprised to find his good friend, Sir Hotchner, towering above him on his horse.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, though he did take in his friend's appearance in order to make sure he wasn't injured.

"It was a success," Hotchner answered solemnly.

A smile broke out on Derek's face, "Excellent! You, my friend, are amazing! And you and your men are going to go down in the history books as a force to be reckoned with. Now, let's get the cart hooked up so I can go home. How is Spencer? Did you find him? What about everyone else? Was there alot of damage to the castle? What did you do with all of Charles's men? We couldn't possibly fit them all in the dungeons…can we?"

Sir Hotchner, overwhelmed by all of the young king's questions, held up his hands in a placating gesture, "All in good time, Your Grace. I'll answer all of your questions once we get you home."

Derek nodded his acceptance and started hobbling toward his cart. He was almost there when he stopped, realizing that the knight had glossed over the most important question.

"Your Highness?" Aaron called down from his mount, curious as to why the monarch stopped.

The king looked up to his friend, realizing there was only one reason why Sir Hotchner wouldn't tell him about his beloved's fate. "Spencer's dead, isn't he."

The slight flinch of the knight's face told Derek all he needed to know. The young man's resolve crumbled as he fell to his knees and started sobbing. What good was a kingdom when he had no one to share it with?

Sir Hotchner jumped off his horse and crouched on the ground next to his sovereign. He laid a gentle hand on Derek's shaking shoulder and squeezed it tightly, "Your Grace…Derek…we haven't found him thus far. We…we don't know if he's dead or alive. I didn't want to tell you yet because I was hoping that he and the others would have been located by the time we got back to the castle. Don't start thinking the worst until we have proof."

"You…you don't know if he's alive?"

"No, I'm sorry," Hotchner said, slightly ashamed at his lack of knowledge. "But we will find out soon."

Derek wiped his face and pushed his emotions down, "Get me down there. I need to know what happened it him."

"At once, Your Highness."

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><p>A few days later Spencer's journey to King Charles's castle was almost at an end. It was midafternoon when they entered the town and a multitude of villagers were out lining the streets to celebrate their king's return.<p>

Spencer, from his perch on Tobias's horse, observed the townsfolk in disbelief. The men, women, and children were extremely downtrodden and sullen. They all appeared dirty and grubby, as if they had no money with which to take care of themselves. Their cheers and accolades were shouted with little to no emotion. The young king reasoned that most of them were probably only out there greeting their king out of fear and not happiness.

"They don't look that happy to see us," Tobias commented from his position behind Spencer. The two had been together for the whole journey and unsurprisingly they had grown closer, commiserating with one another over their lots in life.

The young king was pleased to discover that he didn't mind the prince's presence. He really needed an ally to lean on right now and Tobias seemed like the perfect companion. And while he still resented the fact that his new acquaintance didn't have the strength of character to help him out by setting him free or ending his misery, Spencer wasn't going to reject the offered friendship when he needed it the most.

"I was just thinking that," Spencer agreed. "Tobias, if your father is so wealthy than why do his people look so poor? Doesn't he share his wealth with his citizens?"

The prince burst out in laughter, shocking a few of the peasants that were pretending to celebrating at his feet. "My father share? Surely you jest. My father would sooner give one of his dogs a gilt collar than he would a copper coin to a worker. No, no, no…the king has no concept of generosity, only greed. He believes that denying his people money will force them to work harder to earn it."

"Doesn't he realize that downtrodden people will rebel quicker than happy people? He needs to nurture their growth and aid them in the hard times. A kingdom with content citizens is richer than any other," Spencer said wisely.

"When you put it that way, I'm pretty sure Georgia must be penniless because there is not a single villager out there that would vouch for being satisfied with their living conditions. Of course, I'm not including the vile courtiers when I say that…they're just as bad as my father," Tobias informed his new friend bitterly.

Spencer didn't respond to the prince's comment, his mind focused on the small child that he saw on the route up ahead. The little boy couldn't have been older than five or six years old. He had shaggy black hair and his clothes were tattered rags hanging limply from his emaciated body. The boy was standing right on the edge of the road with his big eyes turned up to look at all the passing knights. The king's horse was soon to cross his path and he had stretched out his palm into the sky in order to beg for a small token from his sovereign.

The captive king watched with dismay as Charles's horse walked right past the boy and instead of giving the poor kid some money or a crust of bread the king aimed a swift kick right to his face. The little boy crumpled down to the ground and howled in pain at the monarch's cruel treatment. A woman, who must have been his mother, rushed to his side and pulled him back away from the road, trying to comfort him after his assault.

Spencer couldn't help but stare as their horse made its way past the child and his mother. He longed to jump off the horse and apologize for Charles's behavior but it wasn't his place to make amends for his captor's deeds. This was just another example of the treatment he was sure to endure at the hands of King Charles.

The youth shook his head and tried to dispel the image of cruelty that he had just witnessed and instead focused his mind on the castle that was looming in the distance. It was a hulking structure that took up the skyline from their position down in the village. It was made out of gray mortar and brick and rose higher into the sky than any structure Spencer had ever seen. It must have taken years upon years to construct by an innumerable amount of workers.

There were four towers; each one constructed in one of the directional corners of the castle. They reached high up into the air where their roofs seemed to scratch the blue sky with their pointed spires. The central building was composed of multiple floors with expansive balconies stretching out from large arching windows that led indoors.

As they got closer and closer to the fortress the drawbridge and portcullis started to materialize. The wooden barrier was down and laid across the deep gulch that was cut into the ground surrounding the castle. The iron bars were pulled up and there were guards standing before them in order to make sure the riffraff didn't sneak into the king's lair. The young monarch was able to see the bottom spikes of the gate sticking out from above their heads, almost like the teeth of an alligator gaping down from the top of its jaw.

A shudder racked Spencer's body as feelings of foreboding clouded his mind. What was going to happen to him in this godforsaken place? Would he ever leave this land and get back home where he belonged? Did he even want to go back home when he knew there was nothing left for him there?

Those questions and more swirled through is head as Tobias's horse took them through the gates and into the courtyard of the castle. The atmosphere of the open aired quad was exactly the same as the one throughout the town, subdued and dreary. There were courtiers milling about all over the place but their welcome was lackluster. Reid could tell that the wealthy citizens didn't want to be there any more than he did and that they were probably worried about displeasing their cantankerous sovereign with their absence.

The forearms containing his body tightened as the horse beneath him came to a stop in front of the stables. Tobias dropped the reigns and placed his hands on top of Spencer's bound ones. He squeezed his friend's willowy fingers firmly and pressed his arms into Spencer's sides. The gesture reminded the monarch of Derek and how they used to go riding on Thunderhead, his husband holding him securely in his strong arms as they galloped through the countryside.

"What happens to me now?" Spencer whispered quietly to Tobias as the two of them remained seated on the horse.

The prince sighed at the question and stopped embracing the lithe youth in front of him. He continued to avoid answering his friend and chose to dismount from the steed instead. Once he was down on the ground he looked up at his friend and said in dismay, "Now I take you to my father and…and he'll…he'll make use of you." Tobias had a hard time finishing his sentence due to the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders because he knew the fate that was in store for Spencer.

The captive king didn't respond to his friend's statement, knowing deep inside what the words entailed. Instead he hung his head in defeat and waited patiently for Tobias to untie his hands from the pommel. Once the rope was no longer fastened to the saddle, Spencer pushed up in the stirrups and brought his right leg up and around, descending from the horse and into Tobias's waiting arms.

The prince then grabbed the rope lead coming off of Spencer's wrists and used it to guide the slave to the king. The two boys slowly circumvented the bustling activities of the soldiers and servants that were running all around the castle's perimeter. Unfortunately, no matter how slow their steps were they eventually made it to the king's parked carriage.

The pair cautiously approached the menacing monarch, who was standing around in front of his horses discussing something with his brother. Charles didn't notice their existence until they were about five feet away from him. When he did finally see them he stopped talking and turned his intimidating glare in their direction. Tobias immediately bowed down to his father and addressed him properly while Spencer fell to his knees and pressed his forehead into the dirt, like he had been forced to multiple times over the past week.

The king grunted at his son, a nonverbal way of telling Tobias that he could rise.

The apprehensive prince stood erect and stated, "I trust you had a good trip, Your Highness."

Charles, never one for small talk, didn't respond to his son's attempt at pleasantries and ordered gruffly, "Get him up off the ground. He's filthy enough as it is."

Tobias pulled on the leash attached to Spencer's hands and Reid pushed himself upright. He continued to angle his chin down and kept his eyes glued on a pebble that was lodged in the soil. He never looked up but he could sense Charles's eyes were inspecting his body with his penetrative stare. Spencer shifted on his fawnlike legs, anxiously awaiting the result of this intense examination.

Soon there was a pair of soft leather shoes positioned on the ground where the pebble laid.  
>He felt a strong grip grab his chin and tip his head up, forcing him to meet the king's gaze. Charles turned Spencer's head from side to side and traced his jawline with his thumb. Without looking at his son the monarch instructed, "Take him upstairs and give him to my grooms. He is to have the full treatment and new clothes more becoming of his new station. He is to be ready and waiting for me by dinner."<p>

"Yes, father," Tobias said obediently.

The king released Spencer from his grasp and walked away without another word.

* * *

><p>Derek thought he was going to be sick when he saw the floor of the throne room. There was a large puddle of blood pooled at the bottom of the throne and then a long smear of it trailing across the ground.<p>

He looked over to Sir Hotchner, "This must have been where my mother…where my mother was killed."

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness," Hotchner said compassionately.

The king closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind away from his mother's death.

"Were there any other bodies?" Derek finally asked the knight after he composed himself.

"What?"

"Did your men find any other bodies in here? My mother wouldn't have been alone. Lord Rossi would have been with her."

"We didn't find anyone else in here, Your Grace."

"Then where is he? He wouldn't have left her side if he could have helped it," Derek pondered, looking around the room for clues.

"Perhaps he went into hiding with King Spencer?" Hotchner ventured.

"I doubt it…" Derek trailed off as he stepped behind the throne and noticed a trail of red droplets leading to the tapestry on the wall behind it. "Look, there's blood! It's leading toward the wall."

Both men ran over to the arras and studied the floor.

"You're right."

The king looked over to his friend and pulled aside the wall-hanging, fully revealing the stone wall. Derek ran his hand over the gray rocks and smiled when he felt the recess in the seam that he was looking for. He curled his fingers into the hidden nook and pulled with all his might, causing the concealed door to swing open. "This passage comes out upstairs, right across from my bedroom. There's a secret room at the end of the hallway that was constructed years ago when my ancestors were at war. I bet Spencer's in there with everybody else. Come on! I bet they don't even know that the castle is in our hands once again. Let's go give them the good news," Derek gushed, excited at the prospect of seeing his lover safe and sound.

Sir Hotchner stepped forth and unsheathed his sword as he called for a torch. His squire quickly produced the required light source, placing it into the knight's free hand. "I hope you're right, Your Grace. But we mustn't go rushing up there. We have no idea if there are any enemies lying in wait. I'll go first and clear the way. Follow behind me."

The young monarch longed to charge up the stairs but, as always, he heeded his friend's words.

Moments later the two men were slowly creeping up the shadowy stairs, completely on guard and hyper-vigilant the whole way to the top.

When they reached the end of the passage, Sir Hotchner pressed his ear to the wall and listened for any signs of the enemy.

"I thought your men cleared the castle?" Derek whispered impatiently.

The knight pulled back from the concealed door and looked at the king's face, which was covered in flickering shadows due to the light of the torch. "They did, but like I said before we can't be certain that everyone was caught in the first pass through the castle. We can't afford to let our guard down and be caught unaware," he explained, dropping the king's formal title since they were all alone.

"Well, did you hear anything?"

"No. I think it's clear."

"Then let's go!" Derek ordered, his words sounding high-strung in anticipation.

Aaron didn't wait to be told twice and pulled the handle on the inside of the door toward him, exposing the silent hallway. Derek, allowing his emotions to get the best of him, pushed past his friend and into the open. He looked both ways, happy to see that there wasn't any sign of the enemy, and ran toward the hidden room at the end of the hall.

Once he got to the suit of armor that blocked the access to the room he pulled down its shiny left arm and watched in satisfaction as it opened.

A shriek immediately greeted Derek upon his entrance into the room.

"Oh my God! You're alive!" squealed the shrill voice of one of Derek's best friends, Lady Penelope Garcia.

A large smile broke out on the king's face as a blur of royal purple satin skirts ran straight at him and enveloped him in a crushing hug. "I-I can't believe that it's you! We heard that you were dead!"

Derek winced when his friend's embraced irritated his injury but instead of stopping her hug he squeezed her back affectionately. "I'm alright sweetness. I'm alright…I just got cut a little bit, but nothing too serious."

She pulled back from the hug with tears streaming down her face. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you!"

"And I, you." He smiled at her and planted a small kiss on her forehead. He then looked back up and let his eyes search the crowd for his beloved. "Is Spencer in here with you? Or how about Lord Rossi?"

The room that had been chattering in excitement upon the king's appearance suddenly became hushed. Penelope let out a little yelp and covered her mouth with her hand.

The king turned toward her, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I…um…"

"Lady Penelope, if you know anything about the king's whereabouts or Lord Rossi's please let us know," Sir Hotchner requested from his spot near the door.

"Lord Rossi is over here," announced a strong feminine voice from behind a wall of people toward the back of the room. The bodies blocking the speaker parted to reveal a disheveled JJ in a tattered blue gown kneeling beside a cot. On the makeshift bed was the haggard pale body belonging to Lord Rossi. His eyes were closed and his face was screwed up in pain. Derek could tell that his breathing was labored and the man's shoulder was wrapped up in white bandages tinged with blood.

"What happened?" Derek demanded as he marched over toward his injured mentor.

"We don't know," JJ said. "We were hidden in here when the Georgian army raided the castle. Your mother and Lord Rossi opted to stay in the throne room to meet the opposition head on. We're not sure what happened but at some point they ran him through. We found him abandoned on the floor after dark when we were out scouting the damages and scrounging for food. Luckily, the soldiers that were on watch were preoccupied with something and Will and I were able to drag him back here. We've been taking care of him ever since. He hasn't fully woken up yet but sometimes he opens his eyes and mutters incoherently."

"Will he-will he survive?"

JJ nodded her head, "I think so…but I really don't know…"

Derek stooped down next to the cot and captured the old man's hand in his. He squeezed the gnarled appendage then brought it up to rub it against his cheek. "Hang on old man. You can beat this…it's what mom would have wanted you to do."

After a brief moment of silence, the distraught king twisted his head and asked JJ, "Do you know where Spencer is?"

A look of sadness painted her porcelain features as tears pooled in her sapphire orbs, "I'm so sorry, Derek...but King Charles took Spencer with him…and it's all my fault.

* * *

><p><strong>Surprise! Rossi is alive!<br>**

**I just didn't have the heart to actually kill both Diana and Rossi. Spencer needs at least one parental figure to be alive and Rossi needs to avenge Diana's death!**


End file.
